


The Poisoned Garden

by Caryn_B



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Friendship/Love, M/M, Past Torture, Plot, Romance, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:04:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 103,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9694952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caryn_B/pseuds/Caryn_B
Summary: Past and present collide when an incident from Han's past resurfaces in a plot that threatens Luke's life. Han and Luke are drawn together in an attempt to untangle the threads of a story stretching back over twenty years. But with Luke struggling to come to terms with a recent trauma, Han finds it increasingly difficult to deal with the emotional distance that has grown between them.The story takes place three years after Return of the Jedi. The Rebel Alliance, now known as the Galactic Alliance, is negotiating a series of treaties throughout the galaxy calling for member worlds to take an active role in maintaining peace. The Empire still exists on systems and planets loyal to the regime. The largest contingent of ex-imperials has gathered on Gamorr under the leadership of Moff Blaine. They become players in a bid to gain control of a secret legacy left by Grand Moff Tarkin.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in 2001, but it took me a while (I didn't post it until 2007), because I'm so slow... Based on OT film canon only, but with one or two details from the old EU/Legends, such as Han once being part of the Imperial Navy. I used that basic 'fact' to build a lot of the story on - but it's obviously not even secondary canon these days! Judder Page got covered in the EU too, but I ignored all the post-Endor stuff on him.
> 
> I've labeled this as Explicit just to be on the safe side, because none of the violence or sex is particularly graphic in its description. But the implications in references to past torture might be to some.

### 13 years ago

Grand Moff Tarkin adjusted the holoprojection setting to its slowest rate of rotation, then leaned back in his chair, allowing his hands to come to rest against the back of his head.

The red glow from the projection illuminated Tarkin's face, highlighting the gleam of ambition in his eyes as he surveyed the intricacies of the plans.

It was perfect. Or it would be, once it was finished. As the ultimate weapon, and a source of unlimited power, the battle station would cast its dark shadow across the galaxy. And wasn't that what it was all about, establishing true order through the fear of reprisal? His adherence to this doctrine had made him Grand Moff, so he saw no reason to deviate from it now. And the battle station would remain under _his_ command.

Still, despite his obvious success, Tarkin wasn't about to become complacent. He might be in favor with the Emperor now, but circumstances changed faster than you could blink under his rule. Tarkin just had to ensure he retained his position of trust.

A frown of annoyance creased his brow, because he'd allowed thoughts of the Druso boy to intrude on one of his rare moments of self-indulgence.

Reigl and Fariva Druso had been a thorn in his side, their line of work a potential threat to his carefully-planned future. In this galaxy, there was room for only one all-powerful weapon, and room for only one person to manipulate that weapon. The Corellian geneticists might have planned a betrayal of the Emperor, but their research had been genuine enough, and their son would remain a threat to Tarkin's future as long as he was still in the hands of the Emperor's henchmen.

A small, cruel smile twitched at Tarkin's lips for a second, recalling the misguided loyalty to their cause that had put the Drusos though such a difficult time at the hands of the interrogation squad. At least they were now out of the way, and thanks to one member of his covert trio of supporters, he had almost full knowledge of the Drusos' secret research.

But crucial details of the formula were still missing, and if those details should fall into the wrong hands, all of Tarkin's scheming would be for nothing. The problem was deciding how much blame to lay at the feet of his aides for this unfortunate situation. He couldn't risk antagonizing them. For one thing, Tarkin needed them as much as ever. But also, in creating the clandestine alliance in the first place, he'd opened up the possibility of betrayal from any one of them.

With his eyes still following the gently revolving image in front of him, Tarkin considered the three who were helping to put his plans into operation.

First, there was the computer and data analysis expert, masquerading as an ordinary naval officer. He was reliant on Tarkin for his promotion through the ranks, but Tarkin had seen, and worried over, an underlying instability in the man.

Then there was the interrogator, exceptionally skilled at his job, ruthless and committed, but with an eye to safeguarding his own future.

And finally, there was the scientist. She was loyal to the Empire, an expert in her field, and had a convincing ability to pretend sympathy with pathetic causes. Tarkin was certain that particular quality would, eventually, prove very useful.

Each of the members of his little pact knew that the other two existed, but their identities remained secret from each other. That way, he had yet another hold over the three of them, and effectively prevented them from uniting behind his back. It was an undisputed fact that nobody in the galaxy could be fully trusted.

Tarkin reached forward and flipped the holoprojector off, the plans of the half-completed Death Star disappearing in an instant. With the loss of the projector's warm light Tarkin's face returned to its regular pallor, but the determination etched there remained undimmed. He slid from his seat and stalked across to his communications console.

Jerik Druso would be his, and he'd use whatever tactics were necessary to acquire him. Then he could turn his mind to the others who'd played a part, knowingly or unknowingly, in the events of the past few years. Such as the still-missing Bereljia Kovo. And the uncouth Han Solo, who'd intruded, yet again, into the middle of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

### Maronia – present day

The meadow was a riot of late summer color. Wiry green stems of grasses, studded with the vibrant reds, blues and yellows of wild flowers, formed a fragrant, living carpet. A whisper of a breeze broke though the sheltering belt of trees, creating an undulating ripple through the grasses, and causing fluffy seed pods to explode, scattering their contents into the air.

At the glade's center, bathed in sunlight, a man and two children played. The boy and the girl were young, around five standard years of age, and there was a striking similarity between them. With excited cries, they demanded the man's attention. In turn, he swung each of them into the air with effortless ease, whirling them round and round in a wild spin as they clamored for more. Eventually, succumbing to dizziness, he collapsed to the ground with defeated laughter, endeavoring to fend off the children's attempts to pull him up.

A soft call from within the trees silenced the children, then with one accord, they scrambled up and ran in the direction of the voice. The man remained lying in the crushed grass for a moment or two longer before slowly pulling himself up. He ran a hand through tousled, sun-bleached hair and tugged absently at rumpled clothing. As he stood there, a single cloud covered the sun and plunged the meadow into shade. The change in the man's demeanor was much more subtle, perceptible only in the slight lowering of his shoulders and a hint of dullness stealing into his gaze. He picked up his boots from where he'd abandoned them earlier on, and, barefoot, Luke Skywalker followed the route the children had taken.

***

At approximately the same time, on the other side of the galaxy, Bereljia Kovo took one final look around her. She'd called the place home for the past two years, but now it was time to move on. It seemed like she'd been on the run for a lifetime. When she'd first settled here she'd wondered if she might find peace at last. But the ghosts of the past had found her out again. Even though the Empire had begun its slow collapse three years ago at Endor, there remained those with long memories and grudges to settle. The signs had been subtle, but she'd long become expert in recognizing them. She'd always chosen to live amongst communities who came to know her every movement. It was safer that way, because neither surreptitious visits from strangers, nor casual inquiries as to her whereabouts, went unnoticed. A chance remark at the market, or a neighbor's throwaway comment would alert her to the certainty that they'd found her again. She was tired of the running, but her promise remained. It had been, for almost as long as she could remember, the only constant in her life.

Without so much as a backward glance she closed the door behind her. Normally, it would be occasion to start again on another world, but this time things were different, and the direct communication she'd been anticipating since it all began had finally occurred. Perhaps the meeting she'd agreed to on Fiore would finalize things, one way or the other.


	3. Chapter 3

### Ghandrellia – 21 years ago

"Come on!" Han Solo urged his companion. In a few moments, the factory guard would round the corner. If they didn't move straight away, they'd be in full view.

Jak Zembeki leapt up from the ground, his latest acquisition transferred securely to the collecting pouch that accompanied him everywhere, and began to run. Han joined him, and together they made the ridge in a state of breathless panic.

A dense, prickly hedge topped the crest. It looked impenetrable, but the two ran unerringly to a particular spot, where a carefully trimmed, narrow route through the thorns was just visible. Han and Jak scrambled into the passageway, replacing the branches behind them, and emerged on the other side. They collapsed onto scrubby grass, recovering their breath.

This side of the ridge represented safety and privacy, out of the reach of prying eyes.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," Han groaned eventually.

"Sorry." But his friend's voice held no contrition – only a suppressed excitement. "Look what I got." Jak opened the collecting pouch and carefully retrieved a single green stem topped by a delicate, deep red flower. Placing it on his palm, he held his hand out to show off his find.

Han glared at it with exasperation. "Yeah, right," he muttered, before adding with resignation, "What is it then?"

Jak smiled. "A crimson erianthe. They're very rare. I'm lucky to have spotted it."

"We're _lucky_ not to have been seen," Han hissed, unimpressed.

"But we weren't! D'ya get anything good?"

Now it was Han's turn to smile. He reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew a small flat packet. He unfolded it carefully to reveal a dozen tiny green crystals.

Jak whistled softly. 'Good' didn't even begin to describe their significance.

***

The Klathorne-Raad metals factory dominated the outskirts of the busy spaceport of Ghandine. Those employed there worked continuous shifts, mostly in the hot, airless basement with its huge, voracious blast furnaces and noisy machinery.

More fortunate workers stayed on the ground floor amongst the packers and droids, whilst the upper floor housed the senior staff, together with a small set of security offices. Beyond the guards' control center was a run of laboratories and storerooms, accessible only with special entry codes. Finally, the furthest reaches of the corridor ended in a suite of plush offices, where the administrative and management staff worked in climate-controlled comfort.

The most spacious office belonged to the factory manager, Stenos Prent. Born and raised on Ghandrellia, Prent embodied the characteristics he personally considered most suitable for running a profitable industry. Both ambition and the prospect of personal gain were forefront in his mind as the meeting he was hosting was reaching its end.

Prent leaned back in his chair, waiting for the server droid to finish refilling their glasses of caf, and surreptitiously eyed his three guests. They all wore the dark blue uniforms of the Imperial Genetic Research Foundation, a fact emphasized by their green and gold arm patches emblazoned with the letters GRF. Two of the guests had taken seats at the far end of the room, whilst the most senior, Audon Marcar, sat on the opposite side of Prent's desk. In front of Marcar lay a personnel datapad. Jak Zembeki's youthful face stared up from the screen. Not an average employee, by any means, and Prent would be mildly sorry to see him go. However, the deal he was close to concluding would more than compensate for the loss.

As the droid wheeled silently away, Marcar scrolled quickly through the file, but found no reason to study it more closely. He already knew the information it contained, and he pushed it away with an air of finality.

"I think we've come to a satisfactory agreement here," he said, glancing back at his two colleagues to indicate that he spoke for them too. "I see no reason for further delay. I'm due back on Coruscant tomorrow evening, and want the boy with me then."

Prent nodded slowly. "It won't take long to sort out. I'll have Zembeki taken to your ship this afternoon."

***

Han and Jak stared at the jespiril crystals, more than a little over-awed at having finally reached their objective. It'd been a long time coming.

Han had first arrived on Ghandrellia by accident, hidden in the cargo hold of a rusting bulk freighter. Just over a year ago, he'd spotted a Flamebird Cruiser amongst the battered and patched-together ships that frequented one of Corellia's less illustrious spaceports. He'd guessed it might have a cargo worth investigating. His hunch proved correct, but Han had miscalculated just how badly the trader wanted to hang onto his goods. A number of individuals scavenging around the edges of the landing bay turned out to be well-disguised security guards for the Flamebird, and Han had to make a snap decision on a suitable hiding place. He'd chosen badly, and ended up being loaded onto a Camoan freighter bound for Ghandrellia. He supposed it could've been worse. At least he'd managed to hang onto some of the booty he'd found in the Flamebird's hold. Selling that off had been his first priority. 

But a month after his arrival, Han was seriously disillusioned. As part of his vision of a galaxy full of chance and opportunity, Ghandrellia fell far short of the mark. It was a xenophobic world, and although everybody spoke Basic, Han found he'd had to learn the regional language in order to pass an implicit test of acceptance. Disgruntled, he'd set off for the shipyards, hoping to find someone willing to take him on board.

Out of curiosity, he'd decided along the way to explore a group of alleyways he'd never been down before. He'd ended up in a circular enclosure with a rough stone shack. In front of it, a small square patch of soil held rows of unusual, but orderly, plants. Whilst Han was studying them, the door to the shack had opened, and a boy, roughly the same age as Han, had come out clutching a bundle of sticks. He'd glanced at Han briefly, before turning away and beginning to stake the plants. Han had continued to watch for a few moments, before he'd started to head back up the alley.

"D'you want something?" the boy had called out.

"Just lookin' for work," Han had replied, his voice still stumbling over unfamiliar words.

Expecting the boy to either shrug or not understand, Han had been surprised when he'd leapt over the wall and run up to him. His face had come alive with something like excitement. When he'd spoken, it was in Han's home tongue.

"Your accent – you're Corellian?"

"Yeah."

The boy had grinned, delighted. "Me too! I'm Jak Zembeki. Who are you?"

And that had been Han's first encounter with Jak. It was also the only time Jak willingly brought up the subject of his homeworld. From that point on, the boys had become friends. Both were orphans – Han with no knowledge of what had happened to his parents, and Jak explaining that his had been killed in a swoop-gang ambush. Other than that, the past was a taboo subject between them. Whenever Han mentioned Corellia, Jak's face would slowly close-up, and he'd become morose and silent.

"I just wanna move on," he'd say in response to Han's questions. And it didn't really matter. There'd been no need for Han to know about Jak's past life. What mattered was surviving the present.

It was through Jak that Han started working in the basement of the Klathorne-Raad factory. He'd have preferred shipyard work, but his efforts to find someone willing to take him on had got him nowhere. He had the right skills – his experiences in Bereljia Kovo's yard back on Corellia had given him those. It'd been there that Han had discovered his love of ships and his ambition to fly. But the Ghandrellian captains, with their suspicion of off-worlders, hadn't been interested. And so he'd ended up in the metals factory, where nobody had the time or energy to spend on prejudice.

Jak was one of the few non-Ghandrellians to work on the upper floor. In this, he'd had a lucky break. His arrival in Ghandine, almost a year before Han's, had coincided with the opening of new laboratories at the factory. Jak's flair for scientific research had earned him an apprentice technician's job testing prototype metal alloys.

But where talk of the past was impossible, discussion of the future was their obsession. Jak and Han shared their dislike of Ghandrellia. Although a close neighbor of Corellia, the two planets were worlds apart in more than one sense. Where Corellia had open space, blue skies and rolling hills, Ghandrellia had urban decay, unbroken cloud and vast plains of scrubby wasteland. It was an unfriendly and uninspiring place for the two Corellians.

Long-term plans for Han centered on his intention to join the Naval Academy. This, he believed, would open up a whole galaxy of new prospects.

Jak's goals were very different. He wanted a simple place to live, but with plenty of land for him to grow whatever he wanted. To Han, a plant was a plant, but to Jak they were complex and fascinating individuals.

However, their short-term ambitions did coincide – to get together enough money for a passage off Ghandrellia. They'd considered stowing away again, but decided it would be too difficult together. Both were willing to work on board ship in return for their passage out, but they couldn't find a captain who'd take them both. Neither wanted to leave separately, in case the other ended up stranded and alone on Ghandrellia.

Even with their combined earnings, they'd worked out it was going to take them a long time to save up enough for even deck-class fares. Han augmented their income with occasional excursions into Ghandrellia's back streets, where he'd sell things that passers-by somehow managed to lose. When Jak commented that Han's skills deserved better takings than those found in the pockets of Ghandine's merchants, they hit on the plan to steal from the factory. At first, they started with tiny, insignificant things, just to see if they could get away with it. When they found they could, they became bolder, eventually ending up investigating the storerooms on the upper floor. They sold what they took, seeing their dreams of leaving becoming closer to reality each day. The jespiril crystals signified an end to all of this. Their sale would ensure them both a way out with money to spare.

***

### Coruscant – present day

The public corridor of Coruscant's Bureau of Internal Safety and Security (known to those who'd heard of it as COBISS) reverberated with the sound of heavily-booted feet. Their owner made his way determinedly through the ever-present crowd of visitors who'd crammed into the wide walkway. Deftly avoiding the clutching hands and claws, Commander Judder Page passed through a set of doors that led to the adjoining military headquarters. He marched to a plasteel door at the far end of the corridor. Ignoring the written imprecation to 'Please Buzz', he hit the panel, and burst through the door.

"Goddamnit man! You startled me." The man behind the desk looked up with an irritated frown.

"We've got another one," Page informed him.

General Crix Madine leaned forward to take the datapad from the commander's outstretched hand. Placing it on the desk before him, he eyed the message for several moments in silence.

"Has Skywalker seen this yet?" he asked.

"No General. I thought you'd want to see it first."

"He needs to know. He's on Maronia with the Rogues. Get in touch with him through Antilles' emergency code." The General expelled a breath through pursed lips "You'll investigate of course?"

"I'll set things in motion again, but I expect it'll be the same story," Page said.

Madine nodded slowly. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

***

Back in his own office Page set his mug of caf down, and studied the holoboard before him. Illustrated were the contents of the four messages that COBISS had received over the past four months. The information in each was brief, confined to a series of galactic location codes accompanied by a holo of an individual. Each time a different code, and a different holo. They'd followed the codes up, and all had led to some remote, disused yard or factory. There, amidst the rusting machinery and dismantled droids, they'd found the bodies of those shown in the holos.

They'd all been lying on their backs, arms folded across their chests. At first glance, there'd seemed something almost peaceful about the composition. But closer inspection had revealed something much more sinister. They'd been tied up, and rope burns around wrists and ankles showed how desperately they'd struggled to free themselves. There were no additional marks of violence on the bodies other than a single pinprick on each victim's index finger.

But the most bizarre aspect of the whole business was the flower that lay between the crossed wrists of each individual. A single stem of a flawless bloom, still exuding an exotic, spicy scent. The thick, curving thorns along the stem a vicious contrast to the delicate white perfection of the petals.

His caf forgotten and turning cold, Page leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on its back legs, and let his gaze linger on the images. Four separate locations on four separate worlds. And four faces – all dead. He wondered how many more were going to be added to this little gallery before this was over. On the surface, it appeared to be a straightforward, if strange, vendetta. But other elements were at play, and both Page and Madine believed it masked something much more complex and dangerous. And after what had happened a year ago on Talandir, they were all, understandably, very edgy.

His eyes moved automatically to the other end of the holoboard, to another face, set aside by virtue of the fact that this person was still alive. He represented their only known connection between the victims, but the link existed only within the confines of this unpleasant game. But whatever the motive behind it all, the life of this other person was almost certainly in danger. Yet despite, or maybe even because of, the events of last year, offers of protection were politely refused. Yet Page knew, regardless of the man's apparent lack of concern for himself, that he was disturbed by visions of these violent deaths. There was no doubt in Page's mind that Luke Skywalker was taking this personally.


	4. Chapter 4

A 35-hour hyperspace hop from Coruscant was the planet Fiore. Its capital, Swelvarne, was heavily industrialized, grimy, and run-down. There, another mug of cooling caf sat on a grubby tabletop in a spaceport diner. Kerul Talyn took a sip then pushed the mug away with distaste. He wondered how they had the audacity to sell the stuff.

He'd been on Fiore for two years now, and the time for moving on was fast approaching. When he'd first arrived, he'd fooled himself for a while that this time he'd found the right group of people, but the Swelvarne Front had proved disappointing. They were nothing more than a bunch of dispossessed factory workers. He'd pinned his hopes on their leader, Haric Evlar, but despite a streak of obvious intelligence, the man was full of empty rhetoric. Long discussions into the night, though stimulating, has so far led to nowhere but a mounting sense of isolation. Since the death of the Emperor, nobody, in Talyn's view, had done anything to halt the rot of liberalism. Talyn believed that it was long past time to make a stand, but if Evlar couldn't, or wouldn't, join him, then he'd have to look elsewhere.

Beneath his feet, Talyn felt a dull vibration in the duracrete floor. It signaled the arrival of a large passenger shuttle. He swiveled round slightly in the greasy booth, the window of which gave an ideal vantage point for those inclined to keep an eye on the comings and goings of spaceport traffic. The lookout task was tedious, but even after all these years, Talyn's powers of observation remained as keen as ever. He hadn't been an imperial interrogator for nothing. In those days (the glory days, as he liked to think of them), he'd spent his time seeking out the seeds of dissent that could germinate anywhere. He'd concentrated on the big industrialists, top scientists, weapons programmers and the like, and was proud of the success he'd had. Trained to spot slight deviations in behavior and life-style, Talyn slowly homed in on his targets, and was rarely wrong. If it ever occurred to Talyn that the confessions wrung from those he'd targeted might have sprung from something other than guilt, he'd never lost any sleep over it.

These days, he used his perceptive skills in a similar way, but for the much less renowned Swelvarne Front. He acted as a lookout at Swelvarne's spaceport. Committed to memory was an extensive file of key individuals he was to watch for, most of whom were involved in some way with the running of Fiore's porolite trade. For Talyn, they were all small fry, but they were central to Evlar's 'master plan'. Talyn had gone along with this in the hope that Evlar might be recruited to bigger and better things. The fact that the Front's ideology was diametrically opposed to all that the Empire had stood for was of little relevance to Talyn. He knew from experience how easily such idealism could be nurtured and channeled into all sorts of interesting directions.

Talyn eyed the straggling group of newly-arrived visitors with disdain. The usual mix – returning families, out-of-work hopefuls heading for the factories, couples planning a new start in one of the more affordable industrial cities. About to turn away, Talyn stilled, all his concentration focused on the final passenger to emerge. He watched as the man wandered, to all intents casually, towards the speeder ranks. There was nothing remarkable in the man's appearance. Medium height, trim build, graying hair brushed neatly back from a clean-shaven face. But it was the limp that drew Talyn's attention. As the man walked, he turned a foot out slightly, which gave him an uneven gait. And Talyn knew precisely why he did that. It wasn't due to the prosthesis – a replacement for a limb ruined irrevocably by torture – because that had been perfect, the best the Empire had to offer. The limp was a nervous trait, sparked off by an inner tension that the former interrogator was well trained to spot. But not only that, Talyn had seen it before.

He smiled to himself. It'd been 13 years since they'd last met in person, but some faces you never forgot. Talyn hadn't known for sure just when he'd arrive, but, as instructed, he was ready. Slowly, he drew out his comlink and thumbed in the code to connect to Haric Evlar. It was about to begin.

***

Deep in the night a welcome breeze stirred the heavy, warm atmosphere on Maronia, filtering through wide open windows and brushing the faces of those asleep. Half aware of it, Luke Skywalker twisted round in his bed, turning his face towards the cooler air. It was a futile attempt to halt the slow slide towards the state of semi-consciousness he knew would bring the dreams. But the more he fought free of it, the more powerful the pull of the darkness that closed in behind his eyes. He had no control over it, but that didn't prevent him trying to focus on something else. Anything that might deflect his final thoughts away from where the dreams so often led. To a place where the doors in his mind, kept closed during waking hours, would always open. Doors that hid the dark and winding passages that would drag him back to Talandir. Even the strangeness of his more recent dreams, with all their unsettling and disturbing allusions to a reality not yet within his grasp, was preferable to that....

_A brief glimmer of a hastily extinguished glowtorch, then darkness. It's a darkness all-pervading and claustrophobic. The odor of stale air and sweat overlaid by a heavy metallic tang. It's never silent, even this far down. The drone of continual air traffic reaches all levels. In-tunnel speeders noisily traversing the endless passages and fly-throughs that illegal trade has opened._

_Nar Shaddaa. A smuggler's paradise. Or a hellhole, depending on your perspective. But neither the moon itself, nor its ever-changing, restless population has any time for the timid or the fearful._

_But now there is fear. Luke can feel it – sense it in the heartbeats that sound a rhythm as loud as the staccato stomp of armored boots above. An imperial raid._

_Shouting and chaos. The repetitive thud of heavy blaster fire permeates the passageways, and reaches the ears of three figures crouching together in the dark. A young man, long tawny hair roughly tied back, reaches to his hip, slowly draws his blaster. One of his companions lays a large, furry hand on his arm. The gesture urges patience, calm. The man nods almost imperceptibly, and the furry hand is withdrawn. Between these two Luke discerns a level of understanding and trust that needs no words. Beside them, a young girl squats. She looks to be about 15 standard years old, with a maturity and toughness that mark her as an inhabitant of the spaceport moon. With her back against the cold metal of the corridor wall, she listens intently to the noises above._

_Fear unites the hidden three. But Luke knows that this fear isn't for themselves, but for the one they've left on the surface. The girl's father._

_Luke sees him then. Far above, amidst the chaos of the raid, one man stands silent and seemingly unconcerned. An imperial officer questions him, and the man shakes his head. Far from angering the officer, it seems to placate him, and he turns away to continue his search. Luke tries to call out to the three below, to reassure them that all is well, but his voice strangles in his throat, and words die as he tries to utter them. The officer stops and turns back. He raises his blaster. The father slowly holds out his hands._

_At first, Luke thinks this is a gesture of submission, but then he realizes that the man holds something in his hand. It's only a flower, the waxy bloom pale against the man's dusky skin, but then Luke sees that it has curving, savage thorns that have torn the flesh. The sight of the flower horrifies the officer. He fires repeatedly, not even stopping after the man has crumpled to the ground. Helplessly, Luke watches the crushed petals turn slowly red._

***

At the headquarters of Fiore's Central Security Force in Swelvarne, Captain Justin Boruman received the transmission from Coruscant with an equal mixture of puzzlement and irritation. The latter stemmed from a lifetime's dislike of authority. Specifically, authority that exceeded his own. The request from the core planet served only to bring home to Boruman the fact that the best he'd made of his ambitions so far was charge of this tatty port, stuck just beyond the main middle-rim trading routes. He scanned through the instructions on the screen a second time, to ensure he'd fully understood them. They came directly from Commander Judder Page of COBISS. Coruscant Security rarely involved itself in the internal affairs of member planets and this was the source of his puzzlement.

Page was asking for a small team to visit the disused porolite factory on the Plain of Karne – once the thriving industrial heart of Swelvarne. There, the team was to search the factory as unobtrusively as possible, and if they found anything out of the ordinary, they were to seal off the area and wait for a team to arrive from Coruscant. They were under strict orders not to disturb anything, and to keep anything they found a closely-guarded secret.

To Boruman, the whole thing reeked of core-planet pomposity. Clearly, Page didn't feel Boruman himself could be trusted with further detail, yet if they _were_ to find anything – other than dust – it was difficult to imagine how Page was going to keep the facts from him. However, he was prepared to co-operate, with an eye to making full use of the opportunity it might present. Getting his name known outside this dead-end dive couldn't harm him, and might pave the way for a transfer out to somewhere more central. At this thought, he narrowed his eyes speculatively. Swelvarne was currently playing host to a distinguished guest from Coruscant. It occurred to him that he could make an advance start in furthering his personal objectives by inviting the guest to accompany their team. With a metaphorical pat on the back, Boruman reached for his comlink.

***

The tour of Fiore's Central Planetary Defense Station was almost over. With just one more demonstration to go, Han Solo successfully stifled another yawn. No one could ever accuse him of not making an effort to appear interested. This was, after all, his umpteenth visit to some minor Galactic Alliance subsidiary, and he was now adept at giving the requisite nods of appreciation at well-timed intervals. He even managed to throw in the odd question every now and again.

To be fair to the Fiore military, the base wasn't _that_ uninteresting. The brand new control room with its gleaming banks of equipment had some appeal. Fiore had installed the latest prototype planetary shield, thanks to a sizeable grant from the Galactic Alliance. Of course, you didn't get something for nothing, even in these enlightened times. Fiore had now become a member of the Intergalactic Free Worlds' Coalition. In addition to signing the Accord of Individual Rights to Freedom and Identity, member planets of the coalition had to assist each other in the event of external aggression. Han wondered when it might occur to member worlds just why there seemed to be a surfeit of politicians on Coruscant with nothing better to do than sit around thinking up long and meaningless treaty titles.

The main problem with the visit was simple. Han was bored. Fiore, proud of its shield installation, wanted an official, glitzy opening. All the usual stuff. Inedible 'local' speciality food, no doubt shipped in ready-made from some sweatshop half-way across the galaxy. Low-alcohol punch full of floating bits that just got in the way. Not to mention assorted celebrities thrown in for good measure.

Unfortunately, for Han, he couldn't even ask himself why he'd volunteered for this tedious assignment, because he knew perfectly well why he was here. It came down to the fact that he seemed unable to behave in a rational way these days, and his reasons for agreeing to come were the most unreasonable imaginable. If he could've summoned the enthusiasm, he'd have laughed at himself.

Instead, he glowered at the perfectly curled wing tips of Admiral Krefal'gh as he followed her into a small auditorium. They were going to sit through a holographic reconstruction of the new shield's capabilities under a simulated attack. Covertly, Han glanced at his chrono, and sighed inwardly. At this exact moment, if he hadn't allowed his pride to get the better of him, he'd be on Ioulou. That, or drinking beer with the Rogues.

Because, a couple of weeks ago, Han had received an invitation to spend an all-expenses-paid week at the Ioulouan resort city of Carello. The management of the _Carello Palace_ obviously fancied adding Han's holo to their display board of 'famous' patrons. Still, if they were foolish enough to want to fork out a small fortune in credits for a bit of publicity, who was he to complain? They'd even sent two invites. He was long overdue a break from Coruscant, and it seemed like an ideal opportunity to take Luke away from everything for a short while.

Okay, so he'd known the flashy _Carello Palace_ was hardly Luke's idea of a perfect getaway, and Han had anticipated problems with getting his friend to agree to go to such a hedonistic place. Still, he'd bargained on the fact that it might just seem unthreatening enough to Luke. After all, the constant whirl of social activity on offer there wouldn't leave time for moments of quiet companionship that might run the risk of serious conversation.

But Han hadn't considered that Luke might have other plans, because Luke invariably forgot that time-off meant you could go somewhere to relax other than the archives. By the time Han had got round to asking him along, Luke had already agreed to go on some Rogue Squadron baby-sitting challenge instead.

The Rogues were a close-knit bunch, and adversity amongst their number made them pull together even harder. It followed, then, that Luke was as much a part of their circle as he'd always been, despite his alternative Jedi side. And the Rogues had been multiplying – or at least ensuring that they had a stake in the next generation, if only to bore it rigid with tales of the Rebellion. In fact, there were only five children between the whole lot of them, but because the Rogues played as one big happy family, Han had lost track of just whose was whose. Except, of course, he knew the twins were Mersinn Lanesh's.

Wedge, as Rogue Leader, had taken his patriarchal role to heart, and built an idyllic retreat on Middle Rim Maronia. There, they'd all gather from time to time. On this occasion, the excuse was a celebration to mark the birth of the latest Rogue baby. Wedge had wrung promises out of several gullible pilots to join in the fun for a few days. Wes Janson and Hobbie Klivian, lured no doubt by the prospect of unlimited Corellian ale, had leapt at the chance, and Luke had finally promised to go too. Of course, Han had received his _own_ invitation to this get-together even though he wasn't a Rogue, but after Luke had turned down the Ioulou trip, Han had told Wedge he wasn't able to get the time off.

The reasons for his refusal weren't entirely clear to Han. On the surface, he knew he'd been ridiculously possessive, expecting Luke to go along with _his_ plans regardless of Luke's own. As if Luke didn't have a total right to go wherever he pleased. And if that meant he'd rather spend time with his old Rogue pals than Han, well that was fine, wasn't it?

Except it wasn't, or Han wouldn't be stuck here. He wasn't even being fair on Luke, but then what was new? Luke had promised Wedge he'd go before he'd even known about Han's plans. And as far as breaking promises went, Luke was as unyielding as a blast-door.

So there it was. Incontrovertible proof of the way his mind worked these days. And here _he_ was, watching the latest bit of presentation software flicker to its predictable conclusion instead of sunning himself on Wedge's deck. Maybe he'd get a free drink out of the Admiral at the end of this ordeal. Then again, remembering Krefal'gh's lunchtime disapproval of Han's fortifying Fioran brandy, maybe not.

Han shifted uncomfortably on his seat. He wondered why it was, that with a galaxy-wide choice of every form of seating, auditorium benches were always as hard and uncomfortable as possible. It was the same everywhere. You sat through an hour or so of boredom, working hard at showing appreciation and all you got for your pains was a numb ass. Watching a group of fighter pilots changing diapers would've been a damned sight more entertaining, and might even have been worth swallowing his pride for.

Han heard the soft hiss of the door mechanism before a draught of cooler air brushed the back of his neck. Through the corner of his eye, he saw a uniformed woman making her way towards the Admiral. She stopped behind Krefal'gh and whispered something to her. Radiating disapproval, the Admiral rose, beckoning Han to follow her out.

He stood up, feeling the customary jolt inside, which these days seemed to arrive with every potential bearer of bad news. He gave a brisk nod of thanks to the holoprojector tech, and eased his way stiffly from the row of seats.

"What's up?" he asked, as soon as the doors had hissed to a close behind them.

Admiral Krefal'gh's feathers rippled slightly. "Major Evlar is asking if you'd be willing to accompany Fiore Security over to the west side of the city. Apparently, they're undertaking some assignment for COBISS, and as you're here..."

The Admiral seemed apologetic, presumably assuming Han would find the interruption to his schedule unwelcome. Han swallowed his relief that the matter seemed trivial, and wondered just how long it was going to take him to lose his jumpiness. He pretended to consider the request for a second or two.

"Sure, I'll go, if they think I can help. But I don't have much to do with COBISS."

He turned to Major Evlar. "You're part of the team?"

She nodded. "Yes sir."

"D'you know what it's about?"

"None of us do General."

The Major led the way briskly to the speeder park of the shield compound. An ageing speeder, emblazoned with the bold red and green crest of Fiore's Central Security Force, sat on the duracrete. Evlar stood back, to allow Han to climb in.

Forsaking the more comfortable rear seats, customarily the preserve of high-ranking officials, Han opted for the front passenger seat. A flicker of surprise passed over Evlar's face, before she climbed in to take the controls. She executed a reverse swing, and brought the speeder up to a rapid pace in the direction of Swelvarne.

Han turned in his seat to face her, his expression curious. "D'you know why COBISS want me along?" He'd had very little to do with Coruscant Security since the organization was set up a year ago. Han's duties rarely came under their jurisdiction at all, being mainly military ones. But he did know that COBISS had their eye unofficially on everything that touched on security, and they worked closely with Madine.

"No sir," Evlar answered, maintaining her swift progress through the unprepossessing scenery of the Defense Park.

"Just seems odd that's all," Han persisted. "If it's a military thing, why're COBISS involved? And if it isn't, why do they want me?"

"I don't know, General."

"But you've got an opinion," Han stated bluntly. "And cut the General and the Sir stuff will ya? S'bad for my digestion."

Major Evlar cast a swift, quizzical glance at Han, before turning her eyes back to the airway.

"I have an opinion," she admitted finally.

"Well, are you gonna share it?"

"I really can't–"

"Oh c'mon!" Han interrupted. "Everywhere gets more 'n more like the Empire every day. I'm not gonna report you to the boss for speaking outta turn."

"I don't think COBISS asked for you. I think Captain Boruman's acting on his own initiative." Her tone was neutral, but Han caught the edge of irony beneath it.

"You mean Boruman knows a good opportunity when he sees one?" He shook his head with some bemusement.

"A chance to mingle with the famous doesn't happen every day in Swelvarne," Evlar replied.

Han grimaced at the allusion to his unwanted and burdensome fame. "Still, anythin' that spares me Admiral Krefal'gh's reception speech has gotta be a good thing."

Evlar laughed briefly, loosening up under Han's irreverence.

"You ever have any dealings with the old crone?" Han asked.

"She only talks to the higher ranks, but I have met her once before actually. She holds an annual dinner for serving officers in Defense and Security. No rank below Wing Commander though. It's a formal do – full dress uniform."

"Sounds like the party of the year," Han muttered.

Evlar smiled again, but said nothing in reply. She'd slowed the speeder down to take account of increasing traffic on the outskirts of Swelvarne. The route took them past large numbers of identical squat gray prefabs. Han had learned that these were the storage depots for imported porolite. Their existence was a cause of controversy amongst Swelvarne's population, representing as they did the closure of many old factories and the loss of thousands of jobs.

"D'you get any trouble over those?" Han asked, waving his hand to indicate the prefabs.

Evlar grimaced a little. "We did at first. There were a lot of demos. Now it's down to a small group of hard-core activists. We know pretty much who they are, and they know we know..." her voice tailed off, and for the first time in their short acquaintance, she displayed signs of edginess.

"Somethin' wrong?"

Evlar gave a heavy sigh. "You could say that. My brother's involved in the Swelvarne Front, as they like to call themselves. So far, they've only concerned themselves with action against property. Depots burned down, consignments stolen – things like that. Up to now, there's been no real violence."

"But you reckon that's gonna happen?"

Evlar shrugged. "My brother feels very strongly about it, and he's got a lot of support. I think they're planning something bigger. I can't decide if I'd rather not know, or if I should try and find out."

Han nodded, because some things never changed. In the days of Palpatine, imperial-ran factories employed local workers for laughably low wages. Profits, predictably, lined the already bulging pockets of those in charge. These days, with open trading, everybody had to compete with lower prices. Damned if he knew the answer. If Luke had been here, he'd have wanted to set up some fair-trade coalition or something.

Evlar glanced at him, curious over Han's sudden preoccupation.

"Just thinkin' of a friend of mine," he explained. "Thinks it's his role in life to put the galaxy to rights."

"That wouldn't be Luke Skywalker would it?" Evlar asked.

Raising his eyebrows at the major's suspiciously reverent tone, Han replied dryly. "Got it in one."

Evlar brought the speeder to a halt in front of a low complex, and Han scowled inwardly at the man who now stood in the main doorway, watching their arrival. Pompous and self-serving – Han knew the type well. Boruman, presumably. Fortunately, it looked like they were heading straight back out, so he wouldn't have to put up with the customary display of sycophancy. A small team had come out of the building, setting to work loading equipment into a second speeder. With a brief nod to Boruman and the other team members, Han settled back in for the ride.


	5. Chapter 5

_Falling again... past, present and future merging. Swirl of images, real or imagined, like the damp mists of Dagobah, tenuous, elusive – gone. Once again, that rank odor of swamp and rotting vegetation, forever an integral part of his memories, threatened to overwhelm him, before that too, disappeared. Only clear skies, the smell of the ocean._

_Freshness. Beauty. Open space._

_Corellia._

_"Han!"_

_A single spark and the engine shudders and comes to life. A young boy turns towards the voice with a triumphant grin, hands and face streaked with oil. He pushes aside tousled hair with a grimy hand, and his eyes flash with satisfaction._

_The woman reaches him, hugs him. There is laughter and happiness. That the two are friends is obvious. The boy shows his companion the machinery he's repaired. She listens and watches with interest and pride, for it's in her yard that he's practiced and refined his skills._

_But then the sunlight vanishes, and the sky darkens. Strange, because only moments before, endless, unbroken blue had stretched from horizon to horizon._

_"I have to go now Han." The woman speaks softly, and the boy has to strain to catch her words. Tears begin to course down her cheeks as she backs away._

_Han calls out to her, "Wait!"_

_The woman stops, but doesn't speak. Instead, she raises her left hand. In it, she holds a single flower. The bloom is beautiful, exotic and highly perfumed, but with curving, savage thorns that line the stem. Han watches, horrified, as she tightens her grip, pressing the thorns deep into her flesh. Blood drips down her arm and pools on the ground..._

Luke sat up, disoriented and breathing hard. He squinted into the darkness, making out the familiar walls and furniture of the bedroom. Adjusting to reality was always difficult afterwards, and tonight it seemed even harder to banish the images of his dream. In his ears, he could still hear the steady drip of the blood from the woman's arm; feel the shock and confusion emanating from the boy.

_Han. Gods – why was it always Han?_

Luke pushed the button on the side of his bed, activating the glowpanel beside him. The soft light caught his face, accentuating his frown of confusion.

He referred to them as dreams, but the reality was something quite different. They weren't true dreams, because they only happened when he was half awake. He was aware of them, but unable to prevent them. Just like he was a part of them, but at the same time removed from them.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and reached down for his datapad. Flicked it open, and located the messages and their accompanying holos.

 _What's your connection to Han?_ Staring at the three faces shown in the holos, he knew there were no answers to be had from them, and nor would there be. They were dead. Though they came to him in dreams, they brought no understanding. He knew too, that the woman he'd just seen in his latest dream would now be dead, and that soon he'd be adding her face to those that looked back at him from the datapad. He knew it as surely as he knew that he could no longer keep Han at arm's length.

***

The two speeders came to a halt in a flurry of dust, amidst an all-too-familiar scene of abandonment and desolation. The only sound was the soft whirring of the repulsorlifts shutting down. In moments that too was gone, but it was difficult to imagine how their arrival could have qualified as unobtrusive. Swirls of dust still circulated in the air around them as they all studied the building in front of them. They sat without talking, their entire contingent infected with the same reluctance to be the first to break the silence. Han shifted in his seat, anxious for some activity and, hopefully, enlightenment as to why they'd come to this uninteresting spot.

"Shall we get on with it?" he suggested.

The edge of irritation in his tone matched the brusque movements of Garuuk behind him. Her species was renowned for its impatience with human prevarication. Now standing, the scientist hoisted a large silver case onto her shoulder. From beneath her seat, she pulled out a bulky bioscanner, and began to fiddle with the dials. The machine emitted a soft beeping noise, and she immediately turned the volume down. A futile gesture, it seemed to Han. If there was anything or anybody waiting here for them, they could hardly have failed to miss their arrival.

"Wait here," Garuuk growled. She clambered awkwardly over the side of the speeder, the metal case banging uncomfortably against her hip, and started towards the building. Her tail left a wide, sweeping track in the dust. Han took note of the heavy BlasTech rifle hanging loosely at her other hip.

He turned his attention back to the porolite factory. It stood four stories high, and was built from roughly hewn blocks of rock. The cliff face sheltered the area from the cutting, dusty winds that swept across the plain. The factory's numerous transparisteel windows were all boarded up. Rusting loader droids stood outside in what must once have been a storage yard. A dark green, creeping plant had colonized the stone walls, giving the building a surreal, living quality.

Garuuk stopped several meters from the factory, her attention firmly fixed on the scanner's display. She stood there for a minute or two longer before heading back towards the speeders.

"Nothing alive in there," she rasped, "other than a few golvebats. There is a human form though."

Han cast a speculative glance at Major Evlar. With no idea of what to expect on their arrival, he'd tossed a number of ideas around in his head. A single dead human, in a galaxy where onlookers viewed death as casually as the arrival of the next shuttle, hadn't been one of them. Damned if he knew why it took two speeders and a specially assembled team to scout this out. Damned if he knew why _he_ was here either.

Absently, he ran his fingers through his windswept hair, leaving it even more tousled. He knew he was being unduly cynical, but so far, it'd been that kind of a day. He joined the rest of the crew in climbing down, then helped himself to a glowtorch from the speeder's stow-hold. It felt good to stretch his legs after the cramped journey.

Dispatching part of his team to scout out the exterior of the factory, Captain Boruman strode up to join him. "Shall we take a look inside General?"

The two of them, together with Major Evlar and Garuuk, passed through the doorway to the factory. Deactivated, the thick durasteel doors now stood permanently open. Light from outside penetrated several meters into the interior, beyond which was darkness.

To either side of them were rows of industrial benches. Han cast a cursory glance around, his eyes sweeping over rusting machinery and dust-coated, abandoned droids. He recognized the boxy forms of power droids. During the rebellion, they'd been glad of their assistance, but there were very few of the old-fashioned droids left now.

Although he was neither sentimental, nor an outspoken fan of droids, the sight bothered Han. It reminded him of the casual wastage he'd encountered in the Academy. He'd rather spend a lifetime repairing the Falcon than ditch her for the superficial gloss of the latest model, but acknowledged that his attitude wasn't necessarily the most fashionable. The sight before him would have deeply offended Luke, who had both an innate affinity with decrepit old droids, and an inability to leave machinery alone without attempting repair. Good thing Luke wasn't here really – he had a sudden vision of his friend manipulating him into filling the Falcon with all manner of dilapidated droids. The thought gave him a sharp twinge, almost like regret, but he shook this away, disconcerted by the moment of intensity.

Han paused by one of the workbenches. On it sat a squat, menacing-looking machine. A precision beam grinder. A nagging sense of familiarity made him rub the tip of a finger along the bottom edge, revealing beneath the dust the embossed logo of the manufacturer. The curved edge of a hackblade surrounding the entwined letters 'KL'. _Klathorne-Raad_.

The bitter twist of memory was like a punch to the guts. A flashback, to heat, fire and noise. Himself standing before a similar machine, one hand holding the end of a half-finished vibroplane, the other angling the vivid green beam of the grinder over the tool's blade. A job he'd been good at, but in a place he'd hated. He'd got out of there in the end, but the price had been too high. Han shook his head, willing away the sharp stab of guilt. For over 20 years he'd pushed these memories to the back of his mind because some things were best left untouched. That way they couldn't hurt you.

Determinedly, Han looked up, swinging his glowtorch around in a slow arc. Its beam came to rest on the other members of the group. They were standing close together, their torches pointing down, and from the set of their shoulders, it was clear that they'd found something. Han hurried over to join them, and together they gazed down on the body before them.

She looked oddly peaceful, lying there in the dust, eyes closed as if in sleep. Her long hair, once dark but now heavily streaked with gray, fanned out around her shoulders. Han estimated her age to be pushing 60 standard years. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her clothing was oddly tidy and free of creases. Strangely, a single white flower lay beneath her crossed wrists. Even in the gloom, its petals gave off a pearly sheen. The glowtorches picked out long, curving thorns along the stem.

As Han studied her, he felt a nagging sense of unease. It was more than just the odd circumstances. It had something to do with the woman herself. Staring at her face, Han felt a flash of recognition, but almost as soon as it'd come into his mind, it'd disappeared again. He frowned with frustration, but an explanation eluded him.

***

The nights on Fiore came early, dusk descending quickly and bringing a pallid light from the planet's solitary moon. Whilst most of the population of Swelvarne slept, Major Friela Evlar lay awake in her bunk. Listening for a moment to ensure that the steady breathing of her roommate meant she was unlikely to awaken, Evlar slowly uncurled her fist to stare at the object she held there. Once again, she experienced the sinking feeling that had come over her, when the beam from her glowtorch had discovered the object lying in the dust of the factory floor. The momentary panic she'd felt had caused her to retrieve it, and to slip it silently and unobserved into her pocket. Now, in the moonlight, the small circular object appeared nondescript and insignificant. In the dim light, she was unable to make out the intricate detail of the engraved design, and couldn't see the tiny holo captured at its center. But she knew they were there, because she'd commissioned its manufacture herself. It had been a special gift, and her brother carried it everywhere. That he'd been in the porolite factory was obvious – the question she had to ask herself, was why?

***

The next morning, Han was amongst a small group awaiting the arrival of the _Rebel Victory III_ from Coruscant. It was bringing a small team from COBISS headed by Commander Judder Page.

Han knew Page well. Originally from imperial-loving Corulag, Page had defected to the Alliance, and eventually found himself fighting on Hoth against his old commander, General Veers. Following that, he'd joined Madine's ranks of commandos, going down to Endor as part of Han's taskforce. It was Page's expert knowledge of weaponry and undercover work that had led Madine into asking him to lead the new COBISS unit.

Han had first met Page shortly after the Battle of Yavin, not long after Page's defection. They'd worked together occasionally, but after Endor, Page had disappeared for a while, and Han understood that he'd gone undercover. They'd met again, intermittently, during the battle for Coruscant. It was odd why a man of Page's seniority was now trailing over to Fiore to investigate one dead human, but it was clear evidence that more was going on here than was immediately apparent. Whilst not the type to hanker after 'being in the know', Han had an active dislike of being kept intentionally in the dark.

A far-off smudge on the horizon meant he might just get some answers soon. As Han watched, the smudge defined itself as the smooth contours of a Senerdin Cruiser, rapidly making its approach to the landing pads. Moments later, as the boarding ramp lowered, Han recognized the familiar, loose stride of Judder Page.

"Hey, Han!" Page called out. He reached their group, clapping Han on the back. "Good to see you – if a bit of a surprise," he finished, raising his eyebrows.

With a sidelong glance at Major Evlar, acknowledging the confirmation of her suspicions, Han greeted Page. "You're lookin' good Judd," he grinned. "And if you think you're in the dark about what I'm doing here, you wanna imagine how _I_ feel!"

A brief moment of silence followed this admission. Han thought he saw a trace of discomfort behind Page's pleasure at seeing him, and it crossed his mind that his presence here was unwelcome. A brief flash of satisfaction accompanied this thought. Whatever kudos Boruman had hoped to achieve over asking him along on this picnic, it was unlikely to amount to much.

Page wanted to go straight to the factory. By this time, a droid had amassed a large quantity of metal boxes at the foot of the _Rebel Victory_ 's ramp. Together, they piled this equipment onto the waiting speeders, then made their way back out towards the dusty Plain of Karne.

***

Han leaned against the yawning factory entrance, watching the activities of Judd and his team. Page was pacing back and forth, a datapad in his hand. He was using it in voice-activated mode, and every now and then, the odd word would filter across the factory floor to Han's ears. He didn't attempt to listen harder, determined by now that he'd wrest the truth from Page later on.

Bored, he pushed off from the doorway, and moved outside. His glance alighted on Friela Evlar, who was discussing arrangements for transfer of the body to Swelvarne. Presumably, Judd's team would then take her back to Coruscant.

He wondered briefly about the dead woman's background. If her family and friends were here on Fiore, they'd be unlikely to have much say in arrangements for her departure ceremony. And suddenly, there it was again. That sharp glimmer of recognition. It was impossible to ignore, yet equally impossible to pin the thought down. He turned on his heel, suddenly needing to study the face of the woman again – certain that this time he'd work out just what was troubling him. Evlar stopped him in his tracks.

"Hey, you look like you've seen a ghost," she said. She was smiling, but seemed preoccupied and troubled.

"Somethin' up?" Han asked.

"No," she demurred, not altogether convincingly. "I guess it's just been a long couple of days." She shrugged. "How about you tell me what's on _your_ mind?"

Han shook his head. "I dunno. It's just that I got this weird feelin' I've seen her before."

"The dead woman?"

"Yeah – but damned if I can remember." It was his turn to shrug. "You ever get that feeling – like you know someone, but just as soon as you think you know 'em, you've forgotten 'em again?"

Evlar laughed. "I guess I'm pretty good at remembering just about everybody I've met. But I'm not what you'd call well traveled! I've never been off Fiore, and I don't get to meet that many interesting people."

"Hey, thanks," Han complained.

"Present company excluded, of course!" Evlar grinned. "But I'm not like my brother. He never forgets a name or a face. I hated him when we were kids." She laughed again, but this time it sounded strained, and some of the light-heartedness that had made a brief appearance had disappeared.

"Looks like they're packing up now," Evlar gestured towards the factory.

Han watched as a repulsorlift trolley was taken in. "Guess I'll wait till we're back in Swelvarne before taking another look," he said.

Judder Page strode over to join them. "Major, Han," he nodded to each of them in turn. We're ready to go if you are."

"Sure," Han agreed. "Get what you wanted?"

Page sighed. "Got what I _expected_ , but not what I _wanted_." He studied Han for a few moments in silence.

Once again, Han had the distinct impression that Judder was deliberating over how much, if anything, to tell him. "I got my security clearance," he muttered.

Page laughed at that, and seemed to come to a decision. "Let's go out for a drink later. You're gonna find out sooner or later – so you might as well know now."

***

"So how come you're still hanging round Coruscant then? Ever since I've known you you've talked about leaving."

"Oh, I dunno," Han shrugged. "Guess there's been stuff to do..."

"You've not got back with Leia have you?"

"Leia?" Han repeated, surprised. "We're still good friends, but it never came to much beyond that anyway."

"A lot of people thought..." Page tailed off, perhaps imagining he was stepping on delicate ground.

"People think a lotta things," Han grinned, " 'n most of the time they're way off course. Yeah, we sorta hooked up a bit, right after Endor, but it fizzled out pretty much as soon as it started. Guess neither of us was what the other one really wanted."

"Which was?"

"For Leia? She's still lookin'. You have to beat a path to her door to get through all the admirers, but there ain't many she's really interested in." Han shook his head. "Leia's committed to the job. Doesn't leave much time for anything else."

"What about you?"

"Oh c'mon Judd. You know me. Easy come, easy go. I ain't looking for ties right now."

"But you're still on Coruscant," Judder persisted.

Han shifted in his seat. _Why was it that people always asked the same damn questions he asked himself week after week?_ "I like the beer," he said dismissively. "Now quit stalling and let's talk about you for a change. Like, what are you doin' here? And what ain't I s'pposed to know?"

Page hesitated, turning his beer glass round in his hands. He glanced briefly around the crowded tavern. It was full of the usual spaceport types – you either minded your own business in a place like this, or paid the consequences of curiosity. It was an ideal place for a private conversation.

"What d'you know about the Druso Affair?" he asked quietly, his eyes studying Han's face.

Han shook his head. "Never heard of it."

Page nodded, clearly having expected this answer. "There've been files on it since way back, but they're so full of speculation and contradictions, that nobody ever knew whether to take the whole thing seriously or not."

"Sounds like the story of my life."

Page grinned at him, and continued. "I'll fill in a bit of background. A couple of years after Palpatine declared himself Emperor, he set up a research facility on Corellia, near a place called Prystyn."

Han raised his eyebrows. "Prystyn? In the fifty-second sector?"

"Yeah," Page said, surprised. "Why, d'you know it?"

"I used to, a long time ago. Not been back there for over 20 years though."

"Small world. But even if you'd seen the research center, you wouldn't have known what was going on there."

Han shrugged. "I spent most of my time out in the flatlands mending ships. Cities didn't interest me much. What'd this place do then?"

"On the surface, it was the usual bog-standard manufacturing unit. But there was another – secret – part to it."

"I'll bet."

"There were underground laboratories run by two of Corellia's top geneticists – Reigl and Fariva Druso. They had the free run of the place, pretty much. The Emperor must've had a lot of trust in them – as far as he trusted anyone, that is. They were working on making a new compound. A poison, genetically engineered. They'd done some trials using plants as carriers for the toxin."

What were they gonna do with it?" Han asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Page admitted. "But it was a big project, intended to produce an alternative type of weapon. One capable of killing thousands. But the weird thing about the poison was that it was supposed to be undetectable. It mutated into something found naturally in whatever it found its way into. The scientific details are beyond me, but if there was a way to do it, you can bet the Empire would've known about it."

"Sounds like their kinda thing."

"Yeah. And I can imagine the Emperor would've liked the idea of a weapon that left no trace."

"Other than a lot of dead bodies,"Han said dryly.

Page nodded. "People have come up with a hundred different reasons for why the poison had to be undetectable. Some think maybe Palpatine wanted to prevent his enemies from getting hold of the poison and copying it, or developing an antidote. Others are convinced that he simply liked the idea of the mystery behind it all."

"Yeah, I can see that. A whole lotta people dying and no-one's got an answer. Coulda created a whole new side to the so-called rule of fear."

"That's what I think too," Page agreed. "And I wonder if that was partly the reason why it never went ahead. There'd always been bitter rivalry between the Emperor's top henchmen, and I can't see Tarkin would've been too happy with the idea."

"He wouldn't have had that much power back then would he?" Han asked.

"Not visibly, but Palpatine always liked him. He got promoted to Admiral when Palpatine was Supreme Chancellor. From there it was a few quick steps up to Grand Moff."

Han frowned, remembering too vividly the implementation of Tarkin's infamous Doctrine. Based on maintaining control through fear, it had culminated in the realization of the Death Star. "So what happened?"

"The Drusos weren't quite the loyal servants to the Empire that they appeared to be. Although it'd be some years before Corellia got the full picture, several saw back then the direction Palpatine was taking. They formed a small resistance group operating out of Prystyn's Medcenter, and began passing information to the rebel movement."

Han cast his mind back over the years. As a young boy on Corellia, he'd been more concerned with staying alive than following the political wrangling taking place light years away on Coruscant. Corellia kept itself to itself, and even when Palpatine started calling himself Emperor, Corellians didn't pay much attention to the rumors of unrest. For many, the concept of the Empire was of something distant and slightly glamorous. Even later on, Han hadn't thought of the Empire in political terms. In his teens, he'd seen the excitement and possibilities of the Naval Academy, and joining it had become one of his ambitions. He'd had no idea then what he'd be getting into.

Page had paused for a moment, waiting for Han's moment of introspection to pass.

"But even back then," he continued, "Palpatine probably had his spies everywhere. There was a raid on the lab and the Drusos were arrested. They were executed for treason. Not before they were tortured though."

"Nice. What about their experiments?"

"That's the thing. Nobody really knows what happened to those. Apparently, the Drusos gave nothing away under torture. That certainly seems to be the case, because the Empire never rounded up any of the remaining Prystyn group. The rest is hearsay. We don't think the Empire ever used the toxin. It's likely that the Drusos deliberately delayed its full development, so maybe it never got finished. Some think the Emperor didn't even know the Drusos _were_ part of the rebel group. They think he had them killed because he got cold feet over the virus – he was paranoid that people might turn it against him, or it might fall into the wrong hands. Others think Tarkin was responsible for their deaths."

"The rivalry thing?"

Page nodded. "We know now that plans for a Death Star had been around for years – even before Palpatine became Emperor. Tarkin had control of the plans, so maybe he thought a new type of weapon would've taken some power away from him."

"Didn't do him a lot of good in the end though."

"No. One little X-wing..." Page murmured. "Anyway, whether Tarkin had them killed, or persuaded the Emperor they were traitors, we may never know. What we _do_ know is that the Drusos had a son. Jerik was 13 at the time, and worked as an assistant in his parents' lab. He was supposed to be highly skilled, and probably had full knowledge of the toxin research. He disappeared after his parents' arrest, and nobody's seen him since.

"The Empire must've got him," Han said.

"That's what the Alliance thought at the time. Oh, there were always rumors that he was alive and being forced to develop the toxin in some secret imperial lab, but nothing ever came of those. After so long, we assumed the details of the toxin had died along with the Drusos."

Han frowned at him. "But now...?"

"Something's happened," Page admitted. "On the surface, it doesn't seem like much, but a few people have got very nervous."

"Who?" Han asked.

"General Madine for one."

"So it _is_ a military thing?" Han asked, puzzled as to why he'd been excluded from knowing this.

"It wasn't at the beginning. But since then we've needed to discuss some er... aspects." Page shifted uncomfortably on the bench.

"I'm starting to get the feeling there's something I'm not gonna like," Han muttered, sharing the remainder of the jug of Fioran ale between their two glasses. He managed to attract the attention of a passing server droid, and handed the empty jug over for a refill.

Page grimaced slightly, downing the contents of his glass. "I'll try to be as concise as I can, but for various reasons, I'll keep names out of this."

Han raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"COBISS has been receiving messages over the last four months," Page explained. "They arrive anonymously, and they're untraceable, but we're pretty certain they come from the same individual or group." He proceeded to run through the contents of each message, and the nature of their discoveries after following up the location codes. He ended with a description of the thorny flower stems they'd found in each instance.

"And you didn't know any of these dead people?" Han asked, when Page had finished.

Page shook his head. "On the surface, it looked like the work of someone with a twisted agenda, but nothing more. Not nice, but hardly a matter for Coruscant Security."

"So how'd they die?" Han asked, wanting to get to the point.

"We found no definite cause of death on any of them. They'd been tied up, and there was evidence of a struggle. There were burn marks from synthcord around their wrists and ankles."

"Pretty."

"And they all had a small wound on the index finger. Like they'd pricked their finger on one of the thorns."

Han hesitated. "You've analyzed the flowers?"

"They've been genetically engineered." Page refilled his glass from the renewed jug, and pushed it over to Han, who did the same.

"Obviously that's hardly a rare thing," he continued. "Coruscant itself has one of the biggest markets for genetically engineered flowers. You know – last longer, always look perfect – that kind of thing."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Why bother with the real thing when you can get a copy," Han said dryly. "But what's the deal here?"

"The flowers seem to be some sort of carrier for a poison." He paused for a moment. "But we can't be sure of that."

There were a few seconds of silence before Han spoke. "Let me get this straight. You're saying these people _may_ have died from a poison contained in the flower? You found poison in their bodies?"

"No – that's just it. There was nothing. No traces of anything."

"But if you've not found any poison, don't you think you're...?"

"Jumping to wild conclusions? Yeah, does seem like that, I know," Page said. "But then there was the death of Evin Bessel."

"I've heard of him," Han said, searching his memory. "Didn't he catch some weird virus or something? The whole of the east wing had to stay in quarantine for weeks?"

"That's the official version. We did quarantine the wing, and we ran a lot of tests, but we couldn't find out how he died. But it certainly wasn't from a virus."

"Go on."

"Bessel was covering for someone on leave," Page explained. "He was on duty in the labs, where we were studying stuff from the various locations. For some reason he skipped safety procedures – handled one of the flowers with his bare hands. He pricked his finger on one of the thorns, and died just minutes later. He didn't die easily either."

Han cleared his throat, an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Let me guess. You found no trace of anything odd in Bessel's body either."

"Not a goddamn thing."

"You're sure he didn't just get an allergic reaction to the flower? People do die from things like that," Han argued.

Page shook his head. "We tested for that. In fact, we ran every test in the galaxy on him, but we came up with nothing. The lab droids are certain that the flowers are carrying an extremely unusual and cleverly designed poison."

"So we've got someone running round with a poisonous flower," Han reasoned, "but it doesn't seem like the kinda thing Imperials'd get up to, if that's what you're worryin' about."

"If you knew how many times I've said that to myself..." Page said. "It does sound unlikely on the face it. But whoever's behind this, we're not talking about your average crackpot out for a quick thrill. If we're right that it's a toxin, this is genetic engineering at its most advanced, and it's well ahead of anything we're working on. We're dealing with someone highly trained, with access to specialized equipment. During the Empire very little advanced gene work went on outside the imperial labs."

"That we know about," Han pointed out.

Page gave a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing. "Then there's the flower itself. As I said, it's been engineered. But the droids have isolated its genetic origins. They've traced it back to Corellia. To the Prystyn area."

There was another moment of silence. "So you think it's the Druso toxin," Han said bluntly.

"We have to consider it. Not to mention all the other implications."

"What, that the son's reappeared?"

"It's a possibility. Or the research has finally come to light. It's obvious, too, that whoever's behind this is playing with us by sending us warnings. Giving us little details, but showing they're cleverer than we are."

"You think it's some kinda game?"

"Yeah," Page agreed heavily, "but they're not doing it for laughs. I think it's obvious the intention is to harm the Alliance."

"It still doesn't seem like an Imperial thing," Han insisted. "They wouldn't wanna reveal they'd got the poison, and they wouldn't waste time killing people like that."

"No... but there's another matter."

"I kinda thought there might be." Han wondered if they were finally arriving at the reason behind Page's discomfort with his presence here.

"We believe that the person behind this is intending to attack one of the main symbols of peace in the galaxy."

Judder looked across at Han, who had stilled, waiting. "I said these messages seem like warnings. It's more specific than that. Somebody else has been getting these messages too. Same location codes. Same holos. There's been one difference."

"What?"

"The other person also gets a holo of himself. Numbered." Page hesitated a moment. "If I've been secretive with you, it's not 'cause I thought you were a security risk, or that you didn't need to know. It's because this other person specifically asked me not to tell you about his involvement."

"Go on," Han said, an ominous glint in his eyes.

"It's pure chance that you're here on Fiore when this has happened. Things have got to the stage where we probably need more involvement, so I can't see that withholding things from you is gonna help anymore."

"I'd say you're probably right." Han's tone was dangerously calm.

"It looks like the person doing this is counting up to an ultimate target."

"The mysterious 'other person'."

"You know who we're talking about don't you?"

"S'hardly difficult to work it out!" Han snapped. "Just tell me this – what's the number on Luke's holo?"

"Ten," Page replied quietly.


	6. Chapter 6

Han knew he should've returned to Coruscant with Judd. Gone through the files with him, and familiarized himself with the facts. Instead, he'd blasted off Fiore in a fit of temper, and all because of Luke. On the face of, he could reason with himself that it was ethical to see Luke first before getting the details off Judd. After all, now he knew about Luke's involvement, the first thing he ought to do was explain to Luke just how that had come about. And as Luke had specifically asked Judd not to tell him about this, then making Judd break even more of that confidence just wouldn't be right.

And all this self-justification would be fine, Han thought cynically, if it had a grain of truth to it. The real reason he was heading straight to Maronia to see Luke had nothing at all to do with ethics. He was just damn furious with him. Pinning down exactly why he was so angry was another matter. He guessed he was a bit hurt. Surely Luke trusted him enough to tell him about this latest threat hanging over him? After all, Luke had received enough threats since the death of the Emperor to last a lifetime, so it wasn't as though it was anything new.

Yet, whilst Luke still seemed to take them more-or-less in his stride, Han had big problems with them. At least, he did these days. Ever since Talandir. And maybe that was at the root of all their problems – his increasingly over-protective attitude, and his inability to deal properly with the fall-out from that never-ending nightmare.

Because this particular incident was just the latest in a whole row of similar episodes that led back to Talandir and the undeniable fact that Luke had withdrawn from him. Of course, Luke tried hard not to let it show, but he might as well have slammed a door in Han's face. It was getting worse, and Han couldn't work out why. He knew he was capable of driving Luke to distraction sometimes, but things had _always_ been that way. In fact, it had once been a bit of a game. Han would wind Luke up, seeing how far he could push him, until that calm veneer would crack, and hot-tempered Luke would erupt from it, blue eyes flashing with anger. And Han had always believed that Luke secretly liked his overprotectiveness, even though he continually fought free of it.

Somewhere along the way though, what had once been concern for Luke's safety had become something else entirely, and their arguments had ceased to bear any resemblance to games. Not that the consequences of what took place on Talandir could ever fall under such a description. And if Han still hadn't come to terms with it, where did that leave Luke?

Han rubbed a hand across his face tiredly. If Luke had ever spoken to him properly about it, he might've had an answer. But he was as much in the dark as he'd ever been, and Luke took pains to avoid all mention of what had happened there. As to why it hurt Han so much, that was even more complicated.

Thinking like this made him uncomfortable because it forced him to look too deeply for the right answers. And he'd become an expert in avoiding those. If he kept on like this, he'd have to face the question as to why he remained on Coruscant when each day there seemed less and less to keep him there. And he loathed the place. It was a goddamned rats'-nest. A festering warren of built-up, fashionable apartments with all the glitzy trappings of so-called high society and its associated hangers-on.

And Coruscant was home to another person – somebody Han had so-far refused to consider as a possible reason for Luke's withdrawal. Mersinn Lanesh. She'd joined Rogue Squadron during the Battle for Coruscant, fighting alongside her partner. But Luke had known her since Endor, when she'd fought in Green Squadron. She was the mother of young twins, both of whom Luke and Leia had grown fond of in the months after Endor. Han suspected this was down to some weird twin thing. Then her partner had been shot down over Coruscant, and Mersinn had shut herself away with the twins. Just when it seemed nobody could help, Luke had managed the impossible, and Mersinn was back fighting with the Rogues. But she'd also come back with a bigger part in Luke's life. Han didn't know what that really involved, except that he'd often meet her coming out of Luke's apartment, or he'd come across her and Luke together, talking. And Han found it impossible to ask Luke if there was anything between them other than friendship.

***

Haric Evlar, leader of the Swelvarne Front, was on the verge of being able to transform his small group of activists into something else entirely. But now the time had come, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

Evlar looked around the room at his companions. Did any of them really understand what they'd be getting into if they went along with the ex-Imperial, Kerul Talyn? They were going to ask for a show of hands. It was ironic really, because the regime that Talyn revered, and wished to see return, wouldn't have allowed anything so liberal as voting. Evlar was torn between the chance to acquire the power to wrest control of the porolite industry back from those who'd stolen it away, and the fear of what might happen if his plan went wrong.

He glanced over at Talyn. The man had gained the support of most members of the Front, but Evlar knew that his professed sympathy for their cause was a sham. But on offer was the chance to obtain the means to have a real voice in a world that preferred to ignore them. All Talyn asked, for the moment, was a level of trust that demanded no questions.

Evlar knew Talyn had no real use for the Front, other than as a means of facilitating his own agenda. His casual friendship masked the close watch he kept on all the Front's members. If there'd been a hint of betrayal from any of them, Talyn would kill with no compunction.

It was to the Front's advantage that Talyn had chosen to work as secretly as he had in the past, because the group couldn't betray what they didn't understand. Only Evlar knew the true nature of the assignment they were preparing to vote on. If a majority agreed, they'd be setting off the next day on a mission that would change their lives. But if things went wrong, it might also change the rule of the galaxy for the second time in 3 years.

They were to travel independently, using a mixture of public transport and cargo freighters, but would aim to arrive on the same planet at roughly the same time. Their assignment was a kidnapping. They were to bring the person back to Fiore on a private freighter provided by Talyn.

Once back on Fiore, Evlar understood something of how Talyn intended to use his quarry. Talyn had talked long and hard about power during their late-night discussions. There were pockets of imperial rule and resistance all over the galaxy, and the warlords who maintained these factions had fleets of battleships and TIE fighters at their disposal. If they were capable of cohesive organization, they were more likely to be able to overthrow the Galactic Alliance. What they needed, Talyn had said, was a single individual able to take control. If that individual just happened to have at his disposal a weapon that might guarantee ultimate victory, then so much the better. Talyn intended to have that weapon.

What Talyn didn't know was that Evlar wasn't going to let him get that far. In fact, as soon as they'd captured the man Talyn wanted so badly, Evlar was going to betray Talyn.

***

It was mid afternoon on Maronia when the Falcon emerged from hyperspace. Han brought her down on the large landing pad that Wedge had constructed. X-wings littered the place, Luke's included. Han wandered over to it, feeling the customary warmth the sight of the ship always gave him, and ran his fingers lightly over its battle-scarred hull. Luke's flight helmet and gloves lay carelessly on the seat, and were as battered and worn as the rest of the ship. Luke possessed very few things that were truly his own, but the things he hung on to had strong emotional attachments for him. These were bits of history, and had seen Luke safely through too many battles to count. Han stood there for a moment longer, the metal hull beneath his palm burning hot from the sun, then turned away to head for the villa, ready to explain his sudden appearance.

***

The lake was a deep, placid pool with shallow, pebbly banks around the far side. Its depths, reflecting the sky, were an unbroken, inky blue, paling to vibrant turquoise above the smooth white pebbles. On the near side was a thick swathe of tall rushes, which whispered in the breeze. Wedge had built a wooden jetty through the rushes, and it projected far out across the water. At its end, Han spotted three figures – Luke with Mersinn Lanesh's twins.

He set off down the jetty, feeling the slight give in the timbers beneath his boots. As he neared the three, he could see that they all sat with their feet in the water. A carelessly discarded pile of boots lay behind them, and he could hear the slight splash of feet swinging leisurely. He also caught the soft tones of Luke's voice. Odd words drifted over to him as he approached, and he stopped for a moment to listen. Luke was telling the children about his brush with the wampa on Hoth. They sat, enthralled and horrified at the same time. He caught a few descriptive words, and guessed that the children were as mystified by the idea of snow as they were fascinated by the creature that had very nearly killed Luke.

The memory made Han shiver, despite the warmth of the sun. On reaching Luke, face-down and half frozen, Han had experienced a moment of something like grief, followed by a sharp stab of loneliness. He'd never told anyone just how badly the possibility of Luke's death had affected him, but those seconds of anguish had stayed with him, and were most likely responsible for his inability to let go.

Han shook himself mentally. Ridiculous to get so maudlin by the side of a lake on a summer's day. That swirl of memory had completely taken away the edge of anger he'd been cultivating. It'd take some time to work back up to that now.

The fact that Luke knew he was there was obvious in the very slight stiffening of his shoulders. It wasn't as though Han had expected Luke to leap up and throw his arms around him, but the defensive body language spoke volumes. Whatever it was he'd done to upset Luke was still there and damned if he knew why. Unless Luke had guessed why he'd come.

He moved up behind the three of them quietly, not wanting to interrupt the story. The children had their arms wrapped around Luke, but, engrossed as they were by his words, they'd heard Han's soft footsteps and the creak of the jetty. Without releasing Luke, they turned wide smiles on Han.

He grinned back. "Hey – you wanna hear some _real_ stories, kids?"

Luke laughed then, twisting round to greet Han at last with a smile. "You'd give them nightmares!"

Han studied Luke's face, looking for signs of annoyance, but found none. Luke seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and Han relaxed, sitting down beside them.

"Why don't you take the boat out?" Luke asked the twins.

The boat was an old-fashioned wooden one, with a bench running around the sides. Somebody had painted it bright red. It floated, attached to its rope, in the center of the lake. Luke reached for the rope and began to haul the boat towards them. He wore a loose black tunic, with the sleeves casually rolled up. Han found himself studying the play of light across Luke's forearms, catching the glint of golden hair and faint sheen of perspiration. Luke looked more relaxed and at peace than usual. The break from Coruscant was doing him good, and somehow he always looked his best under the sun.

As the boat leveled with the jetty, Luke leaned down and pulled it up close. Watching the flexing of muscles in the outstretched arm, Han was reminded of the physical power that Luke possessed. Somehow, it always seemed to take him by surprise. There'd be the sudden strength of Luke's grip, or the intensity with which he tackled his training. There was nothing overt about it, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface. For Han, there'd always been something compelling, and maybe slightly dangerous, about this suppressed strength. He found it unsettling in ways he suspected Luke wouldn't appreciate.

The children scrambled into the boat as Luke held it steady. Once they'd sat down, he pushed it away from the jetty, and wrapped the end of the rope around his waist.

Catching Han's amused glance, he grinned. "I'm not taking any chances whilst I'm supposed to be in charge."

Han nodded his agreement. "You enjoy it don't you?"

"What – looking after those two? Sure. Why not?"

"Well, not everyone's cut out to cope with kids," Han explained. " 'n you were brought up as an only child. So either you're makin' up for lost time, or makin' do for the moment."

"What're you talking about?"

"I dunno. It's like... well... it's like, I got to wondering if, maybe you might wanna..." Han tailed off, feeling uncomfortable. Luke was looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to get to the point. But what was the point? It was something they'd never talked about before, despite all the opportunities that had come their way in the last few years.

"Have children of my own d'you mean?" Luke supplied helpfully.

"Well, yeah," Han said. "After all, you're kinda unique ain't ya? Can't see you lettin' it all die out."

"The famous Skywalker bloodline?" Luke said, his tone heavy with irony.

"Hey, I didn't mean... S'just that..."

Luke shook his head, amused by Han's lack of coherence. "Honestly, I've not really thought about it. So much has happened since leaving Tatooine. It's not exactly been routine so far."

"Understatement of the decade," Han muttered.

"Maybe," Luke agreed, smiling. "I like children, but I'm not looking for that right now – probably never. Meeting someone to have children with doesn't really fit with the way I see my life turning out. I've always had this feeling, as far back as I can remember, that I'd be alone in what I chose to do. It can't have been just coincidence can it?"

Han turned to stare at Luke, a slight frown furrowing his brow. Although he hadn't said this with regret, the words conjured up an aura of loneliness around Luke that Han found unacceptable.

"Is that what you want? To be alone?" he asked.

Luke had been idly watching the children playing in the boat, but now he turned back to face Han.

"Does anyone really want that?" he asked. "I think it's just how it's likely to go."

"Hey," Han muttered. "For what it's worth, I'm here. Probably not quite what you meant."

Luke's face softened, and he reached out with his left hand to cover Han's arm, and Han's breath caught in his throat as it always did. And there was the familiar soft shiver across the surface of his skin that something in Luke's touch always produced, like the slight tingle from static electricity. He tried to dismiss it as nothing, just an overreaction to a form of affection he'd missed lately.

"I know that," Luke said quietly. "I didn't mean your friendship doesn't count. It counts for a lot."

"Didn't mean to pry," Han responded gruffly. He glanced down at Luke's hand, where it curled around his bare forearm. Even in the short time he'd been here, the sun had turned it an even, golden brown, broken only by a fine tracery of scars that marked his fingers. Han could feel the pulse in Luke's wrist, its beat strong and steady against his skin, and once more, he was intensely aware of that concealed, almost shocking, strength that Luke had worked so hard to restore. He swallowed, conscious of the prickle of perspiration that had broken out across his brow. When Luke moved his hand away, Han looked up to find calm blue eyes studying his face.

"You can ask me anything, and I'd never think you were prying," Luke said, continuing to watch Han.

If ever there was a perfect opportunity to ask Luke about Mersinn Lanesh, then this was it, but Han still felt uncomfortable. It occurred to him that the reason he couldn't ask was that he was probably afraid of knowing the answer.

"Well you didn't come all the way to Maronia to find out if I might want children," Luke stated, breaking the momentary silence.

"Considered a career as a Jedi?" Han's tone was dry, but carried an undercurrent of unease impossible to hide from Luke.

"How about you tell me what's going on?"

"I sorta thought _you'd_ be doing that," Han challenged. He felt a slight return of the hurt from earlier on.

Expecting instant defensiveness and that telltale stiffening of the shoulders again, Han was surprised to see neither. Instead, Luke seemed almost relieved.

"You know then?"

"I know _somethin'_. I don't know why you thought you had to keep it secret from me."

"It's not like you think–"

"You don't _know_ what I think," Han snapped, "'cause you've never asked me."

Luke hesitated. "No. I'm sorry. I guess you ran into Judder Page on Fiore?"

Han's surprise lasted only a moment. Of course, Page must've contacted Luke about the latest message, so Luke would've known Page had gone to Fiore. As he'd also known Han was on Fiore, putting two and two together was child's play.

"I guess I did."

"I would've told you."

"Oh yeah? Would that've been before or after some crackpot gets hold of you again and...?" Han tailed off, angrily aware that he'd managed to mention the one thing guaranteed to make Luke close up. The forbidden subject. _Why couldn't he just hold his tongue for once in his goddamn life?_

"That's not going to happen," Luke said. "How about instead of arguing about it, we try to figure out a way to get to the bottom of it?"

Han took a deep breath. "Works for me," he muttered.

But at that moment, the rope around Luke's waist jerked sharply. The twins wanted the boat pulled in. Luke hauled on the rope to bring the vessel nearer, and offered a hand to help the children up onto the jetty. Now bored with the lake, they were anxious to return to the villa. Luke cast a glance at Han, together with a small smile that went by way of an apology. "We can talk later," he added. "They're probably all wondering where we've got to anyway."

They headed back up the jetty. Han fell behind with the twins, who plied him with endless questions about the Falcon and Chewbacca. He watched Luke wander on ahead slowly, absorbing the silence and peace of the late afternoon.


	7. Chapter 7

Stepping into the shower an hour or so later, Luke caught sight of his face in the mirror. It would've been difficult for an observer to guess that the calm expression reflected there hid such a multitude of mixed-up emotions. For the fact was, he was no more a master at controlling his inner feelings than he'd ever been. If that indicated his failure to fully embrace his Jedi heritage, then so be it. Of one thing he was sure – that he gave the illusion of being in control. It wasn't so much an act, but more of a defensive shell he'd created, and he believed that most people accepted his demeanor for what it appeared to be.

He'd come to Maronia to give himself a much-needed breathing space. Now he'd lost that, and he was right back where he started. Worse, in fact. Because although it was true that he'd promised Wedge this visit before Han had invited him along to Ioulou, he couldn't deny that it also provided him with a convenient excuse _not_ to go there. Because Han would've wanted a return to their normal, easy friendship, and when Luke failed to give that, Han would've demanded, quite justifiably, to know why.

So he'd come here instead, full of good intentions and plans to straighten out his mind. Maybe he'd been fooling himself that all he'd needed was a few days, but it was irrelevant now. Han had pre-empted it all with his sudden arrival, and his hurt at what he saw as Luke's rejection of his desire to help.

Luke turned the jets up to full, letting the water stream over him. It was almost painful, and definitely promised to sweep away the early evening lethargy. But he needed it to be enlightening, and it wasn't showing signs of that. There was more than one issue to resolve, and because they all interacted, tackling one problem meant broaching all the others too. He closed his eyes, becoming almost oblivious to the pummeling water as he allowed his troubled thoughts to take over.

He'd been alone in his apartment when the first of the messages arrived. There'd been no indication that COBISS had received a duplicate. Puzzling over the holos – one of himself, and the other of a face he didn't recognize – he sensed a hidden depth of complexity that bothered him. For this reason, and to assuage his nagging sense of unease, he'd decided to visit the location detailed in the message. It was there, within the confines of a long-abandoned shipyard, that Luke bumped into Judder Page. Their mutual surprise accompanied the realization that they were dealing with something more serious than either of them had anticipated, although the significance of the numbered holo of himself didn't become obvious until the second message.

That was when Luke asked Judd to keep the situation, and its implications, from Han.

It wasn't a decision he'd reached lightly, and the very fact of shutting Han out gave Luke an uncomfortable feeling of guilt. It felt like a betrayal of trust.

Luke had told himself that his reasons for wanting to keep Han in the dark were primarily to protect his friend from unnecessary worry. If he'd told him, Han would have tried very hard to disguise his anxiety over this latest threat, but eventually the inevitable arguments would begin. So it followed logically, that if Han didn't know, he couldn't get upset. But the reality was much more complicated than that, and Luke wasn't sure he could even make it clear to himself, let alone explain it to Han.

Much of it went back to Talandir. Before his ill-fated visit to the Chaal, he'd never felt any qualms about climbing into his X-wing, and visiting just about anywhere. He'd taken some precautions, such as checking for imperial sympathies and going in undercover for particularly dangerous assignments, but it had still been pretty much routine.

But Talandir had changed everything, and continuing as he always had was no longer an option. Because now he had to consider how Leia might feel about him putting himself in unnecessary danger, as well as tread warily around Han's greatly increased need to protect him. The problem was, short of barricading himself up permanently, there was nothing he could practically do to diminish the threats he lived with on a daily basis. To avoid getting involved in assignments was missing the point. He was as much at risk from attack in doing his grocery shopping as he was from walking down a narrow alleyway lined with crack-shot mercenaries and assassin droids.

But he understood where their fears came from, because he had them too. Not for himself, but for those he cared about. It was difficult because the line that divided safety from restriction of freedom was very fine. They all knew this, and understood each other's need for independence. But it wasn't quite working out anymore, and Luke didn't know how to resolve it. Shutting Han out certainly wasn't the way. He'd known it from the start, yet he'd still gone ahead and done it. But all he'd succeeded in doing was altering the balance of the friendship in ways neither of them could accept. Now it was down to him to put that right.

But alongside this lay Luke's belief that some things would never return to the way they were before Talandir. The whole thing had much wider implications than the changes it had wrought on him both physically and mentally. In that place, they'd forced him to look more deeply inside himself than he could ever have imagined, and what he'd seen had shaken him. It wasn't just a matter of pushing him beyond boundaries. He'd been so certain that no amount of pain would force him to reverse the choice he'd made in front of the Emperor. But there were other thresholds. Ones that had little to do with physical suffering and death.

Luke recalled a moment of clarity in the midst of it all, when he seen the possible consequences of all his reactions laid out in front of him. The choices weren't clear-cut – neither good nor evil in themselves, only marked as such by the intent behind them. In that conflicted state, the border between what was real and what was a product of his disordered mind had broken down. It'd taken him several moments to recognize that the Han who'd reached out shakily to him in the harsh light of Feltran's bunker wasn't a figment of his imagination, but the flesh and blood real thing, doing what he'd done so many times before. Rescuing him.

And Luke had repaid him how? By slowly withdrawing the openness he'd once shared so willingly with Han. By barricading too much behind closed doors in his mind labeled 'Talandir'. And by throwing himself into the mystery of these recent unexplained deaths that Judd believed threatened them all.

At the forefront of Luke's worries was the fear that, somehow, he'd caused the deaths. That there was a connection he'd missed. But there were too many possibilities. The link might not even be him directly, but somebody connected to him – like Leia or Ben, his father or the Emperor, Biggs or Lando, or any one of thousands of dead imperials... Or Han.

This led him to the next thread he needed to untangle. The problem of the strange dreams. The first one he'd dismissed as meaningless. That he should dream about the victims named in the holos was unsurprising – he felt bound up in their lives in some way. That he should also dream of Han was no surprise either. At least not these days. So he'd put the dreams to the back of his mind, only slightly puzzled by how clearly he still recalled their details.

But after last night's dream, he knew he could no longer reject them as unimportant. The image of Han as a young boy, face frozen in shock, and that of the woman he now knew had been discovered dead, had stayed with him throughout the day. They had to have some deeper significance. And of all the things he'd shied away from telling Han, this was amongst the most difficult, because it touched on the huge part the Force played in his life.

It was yet another subject where both Han and Luke still stepped cautiously around each other, skirting issues and anxious to avoid dredging up painful memories and old arguments. All too often, any reasonable discussion they tried to have ended up with harsh words and hurtful things were said. Why this should be remained a mystery. Luke knew he didn't need to prove anything to Han, including his ability to deal with the darker aspects of the Force, and Han had no need to demonstrate his faith in Luke. It was there, and that was all there was to it. It should have been the end of it, but it still lay between them.

Fragments from one such argument filtered back...

_"You don't like it do you?" Luke challenged._

_"Like what?" Han snapped back._

_"All this Force business. The visions, the mumbo-jumbo, the 'simple tricks and nonsense'."_

_"You're talkin' through your ass."_

_"Am I? You hate it that I flew to Cloud City. Couldn't get your head round the fact that I'd had a vision."_

_"Just calm down will ya?" Han yelled. "What I hated, if you could just get it though that damn thick skull of yours, was you gettin' hurt on account of me!"_

_"It wasn't on account of you! It's about time you stopped feeling guilty over that isn't it?"_

_"Right," Han agreed sardonically. "Just like you've stopped feeling guilty over the carbon-freeze."_

Luke opened his eyes, unsure just how long he'd been standing there under the flow of water. They'd all arranged to meet up shortly, and trying to find a way through the maze of confusion that constituted his mind these days would need considerably more time than he had right now. Hastily, he grabbed the soap, trying to recall just what time it'd been when he'd come back to his room. At least he'd have a little longer to think about what he was going to say to Han, because Han would hold him to the casual promise he'd made that they'd speak later. Luke was no clearer on how he was going to approach that without Han guessing that he was withholding as much as he was telling, which would only make matters worse. The Han of his thoughts reproached him enough already.

But how could he tell Han that out of all the mess of the past year, one particular thing had remained constant? The only thing that had changed was that Luke now recognized it for what it was. The knowledge had always been there, but he'd never allowed it to exert a hold over him. But lately it had begun to take over in unguarded moments. If he didn't protect himself against it, he was in danger of revealing the true extent of his feelings for Han – a prospect that, these days, seemed equally as intimidating as confronting the memories of Talandir.

Impatiently, he grabbed a towel, making only a perfunctory attempt at drying himself, whilst simultaneously searching for his chrono. Half-dressed, he rubbed the towel over his wet hair, and ran his fingers roughly through it. It remained completely disheveled, matching his thoughts.

A tap on the door startled Luke, and he dropped the chrono he'd only just located. Grabbing a tunic, he slipped it on loosely before hitting the door control.

"Got a moment?" Han asked.

Luke stepped back from the door, composure sliding into place with practiced ease, as Han entered the room. The door closed behind him.

***

Han could see straight away that Luke was thrown by his unexpected appearance, but his attempt at disguising that was only slightly less polished than normal. Even so, it was a tiny sign that Luke's reserve was getting harder for him to sustain. Han wasn't sure what the implications of that were, but it strengthened his resolve to say what he'd come to say.

"Wedge wants to get everybody together now you're here. Catch up on the gossip from Coruscant," Luke reminded him.

"Yeah – dunno that I know any. But we've got a few minutes. You're not exactly ready anyway," Han said, referring to Luke's half-dressed, damp appearance.

"Lost track of the time," Luke admitted.

Han nodded, and then shifted from one foot to the other, feeling uncomfortable. "Listen – I just came to say sorry."

"What for?"

"The way I've been. The way things've been." Han shrugged. He couldn't be more specific because he didn't know himself just how they'd managed to let things get so awkward.

Luke stared back at him for a moment, and then shook his head slowly. "No. It's not you who needs to say sorry – it's me. I know what it must seem like. That I've shut you out. I know I've not been fair to you."

"You've probably got a good reason. Like I'm a jerk."

Luke smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Well, don't rush to deny it."

"I'd hate to argue with you."

"It'll be a first then," Han muttered.

Luke gave a low laugh, but Han knew they were doing it again. Stepping back into safe territory by reverting to familiar verbal sparring. It was what they'd always done, but lately it'd become a shield. Something to hide behind when talk seemed to be leading in directions neither of them felt comfortable with.

As though recognizing Han's concerns, Luke gave a small, rueful smile and moved closer to him.

"I know things are difficult, and it bothers me as much as it bothers you. Everything's gotten out of hand, I guess. I know I've not dealt with this past year very well."

"How can you say that?" Han said with disbelief. "Most people wouldn't still be alive." But despite his words, Han's instincts had always told him that much more troubled emotions lurked beneath Luke's facade of calm. He tried to make his next comment as casual as possible. "'S just, with some things, you can't handle 'em properly if you shut 'em up inside."

It was just about as far as he thought he could go, and from the slight waver in the self-control Luke was so good at maintaining, Han realized that even this was pushing things.

"Hey," he went on, his tone conciliatory. "I don't expect you to talk about things you don't wanna talk about. I only wanna know why it feels like you've stopped trusting me."

"I've never stopped trusting you, Han. How could I? It's not about trust, it's about..." Luke gave a small, frustrated shake of his head. "I don't know. It's difficult to explain. Everyone has their own way of dealing with things, but I understand how that looks to you. You might not believe this, but I'd come here to work out a way to sort things out between us. I'm going to try to explain it to you."

"When?" Han asked.

"There isn't enough time now. So how about later on, after the meal?"

Han nodded, not wholly convinced, and Luke reached out with his hand as he'd done before by the lake, trying to offer reassurance.

"I promise," he repeated.

And of course, just like by the lake, it happened again. The flicker of sensation that jumped across Han's nerve-endings and through his insides in a single moment. From where the tips of Luke's fingers pressed into his skin, Han felt the warmth of connection spread slowly up his arm, fanning out across his collarbone and all through the rest of his body.

Han looked at Luke's hand, and answered in the only way he could manage, by placing a hand over the top of Luke's, returning a pressure meant to convey whatever it was he couldn't seem to put into words. Understanding, and friendship, and patience, and something else too difficult to define. But then neither of them were moving away, and the contact seemed all of a sudden to be at the heart of everything.

Flustered, Han took his hand away and looked down, his eyes alighting on the chrono by Luke's feet. He didn't know why he bent down to pick it up, but maybe he'd thought to disperse some of the tension that had filled the room. All it did was to emphasize his close physical proximity to Luke. And as the side of his hand brushed against Luke's bare foot, he had a sharp recollection of a time just over a year ago. In a small room on the medical frigate, there'd been a moment of despair, when he'd wondered if Luke would ever walk unaided again. There, Han had kissed Luke for the first and only time. Luke, deep in oblivion, had never known.

And now Han had found an answer of sorts to at least one of the questions he'd asked himself – just how much longer could he keep hiding the truth? For simply too long, he'd kept it to himself, always careful to reveal nothing, anxious not to jeopardize further the increasingly shaky stability of their friendship.

Han straightened up slowly, registering details of Luke's appearance from a forever-changed perspective, because it was now far too late to back away. His gaze fixed itself incongruously on Luke's tunic, to where the fabric clung damply to ribs because Luke had failed to dry himself properly. Han found he couldn't move his eyes away from that spot, knowing that beyond it, the open edges of the shirt would reveal skin still flushed from the heat of the shower.

And then the long moment had passed, and Luke was moving to pull the fastenings of the tunic together, as if discomfited by Han's stare, and perhaps mistaking its intent for something altogether different.

"Don't." Han said it too quickly, his tone too harsh.

Luke froze instantly, his only movement being to let his hand drop to his side.

This time it was Han's turn to touch, his hand moving instinctively, reaching for the tunic. He slid it slowly off Luke's shoulder, down Luke's arm, revealing bare skin, warm beneath the light graze of his fingertips.

At last, Han raised his eyes to Luke's, meeting those clear blue eyes that gazed at him with an expression Han couldn't interpret. He knew he needed to say something, but Luke started speaking first.

"Han..."

"Luke!"

The shout cut across Luke's words, followed instantly by the hiss of electronics as the door opened.

Mersinn Lanesh stood there, her eyes widening slightly with a dawning comprehension as she stared at Han and Luke. In their surprise, they'd barely moved, still standing close together, Han's fingers tangled in the fabric of Luke's tunic.

Belatedly, Han released his grip, and Luke pulled the tunic back on. He began to fasten it clumsily.

"Sorry – shouldn't have barged in." Mersinn spoke lightly, but couldn't fully disguise an undercurrent of something else in her voice. Abruptly, she turned to leave.

"Wait!" Luke called out, but Mersinn either didn't hear, or chose not to answer.

There was a long moment of silence before Han spoke.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to..."

"What?" Luke asked quietly.

"This. What just happened. I only came to say sorry, 'n I didn't mean to... Can we just forget this happened huh?"

Luke stared at him for a few moments, confusion flashing briefly across his face before the Jedi calmness that Han found so unnerving settled over him again. He nodded.

"Okay."

"I'll see you at dinner then?" Han asked.

"Sure," Luke replied.

  


Back in his own room, Han banged his fist down hard against the nearest available hard surface. It hurt, but as an outlet for all the pent-up feelings and confusion of the past months, it was just about a necessity.

"Damn!" he hissed, furious at everything, but with himself above all.

Just what kind of a mess had he created now? Things had been difficult enough before and now he'd totally screwed up. Why had he spent the entire flight to Maronia thinking of ways to heal a small breach of friendship, only to blast it maybe beyond repair with a tactless and blundering approach like that? And he hadn't even really said anything, just grabbed at Luke's tunic. He hadn't even tried to find out how Luke might feel. But then, it wasn't as though he'd planned it. It just sort of happened – before he could stop himself he had his hands on Luke and Luke wasn't moving away. But then he'd hardly had a chance to, and with Mersinn Lanesh turning up like that...

At least he had an answer to yet another question. Mersinn had hoped for something more than friendship with Luke. He still didn't know if Luke shared those feelings, and he wasn't exactly in a great position now to go and ask him. If Luke did have something going with her, or wanted to, then Han surely hadn't done either of them any favors by being discovered trying to remove Luke's clothes. But on the other hand, it was probably just as well Mersinn had arrived when she did. Because just what might've happened if she hadn't? Luke would've either recovered from his surprise and pushed Han away, or, even worse but much more likely, apologized for not reciprocating Han's feelings.

Han glared at himself in the mirror. He didn't look that different for someone who'd just made a life-changing discovery about himself – that is, realizing he was the galaxy's biggest loser. He shook his head, and turned his thoughts back to Mersinn and Luke. It was true they'd spent a lot of time in each other's company lately, but that didn't necessarily mean anything – at least on Luke's part. Mersinn was still grieving, and Luke had helped her through that in the unique way only Luke could. That she'd developed strong feelings for Luke wasn't surprising, because that seemed to be the way it went overall.

But then Luke's earlier comments at the lake came back to him. If there was a chance that Luke could take the edge off that loneliness he'd implied by hooking up with Mersinn, then Han couldn't and wouldn't get in the way. He wasn't going to jeopardize any relationship that might make Luke happy, particularly after everything Luke had been through.

At least he'd apologized about it straight away, and Luke – being Luke and all that – would've accepted it. So now, he'd take his cue from Luke, and put a check on these out-of-control feelings, even though he acknowledged that it wouldn't be easy. He might have suggested to Luke that they forget all about what happened, but his body didn't seem to agree with him, still wound up with the sort of tension that punching furniture didn't alleviate. Han grimaced to himself, wondering just how long it was going to take him to forget that surge in his blood when his fingertips had done nothing more than brush Luke's shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

The summer evening was drawing to a close, night beginning to settle across the eastern hemisphere of Maronia. Wedge stood at an open griddle to one side of the large raised deck in front of the villa, from where the spicy scent of Corellian drop-breads was slowly spreading out into the warm air. Expertly, he flipped the drop-breads over, browning them for just a few seconds on the other side. As soon as they were ready, he passed them over to Han to finish off.

Placing a generous helping of grilled vegetables and creamy sauce on each, Han rolled them up, sprinkled them with freshly-ground spices, and handed them around. "Corellian street food. You won't get better 'n this," he said.

Some time later, the atmosphere had gone well beyond relaxed. Only the most resilient remained, lounging about on cushions and rugs across the deck. There were bottles of Corellian ale and jugs of local wine spread about everywhere.

"When does Chewie get back from Kashyyyk?" Wedge asked with a yawn.

"Two or three days," Han said. Chewbacca had planned to join the Rogues on Maronia, but the death of Arrfruun, the most senior of his village elders, had meant he'd needed to go home. The village had asked Chewbacca to perform the Return, a long, difficult journey down to the planet's surface where the body would be placed amongst the roots of the wroshyr trees, and 'returned' to the ground. Undertaking the ritual was a great honor for a Wookiee.

"What's next then?" Wes Janson asked. He lay on his back, with his head resting comfortably on Hobbie's stomach. Hobbie had gone past the stage of being aware of anything, the beer bottle he'd been holding before falling asleep had dropped from his hand, its contents dripping slowly through the slats in the deck. For all of them, this break on Maronia was a rare treat. Life would return to the usual whirlwind of assignments as soon as they were back on Coruscant.

"Ackbar wants somebody to go out to Erystrar," Han said. "Thought Chewie 'n I might go, check the place out."

"Isn't that where there was that uprising?" Wes asked.

Han nodded. "Nobody told the Governor the Emperor'd snuffed it. When people decided they'd had enough of him lining his own pockets, he called for back-up but nobody came."

"D'ya think they'll join us?" Wedge asked.

Han shrugged. "It'll be useful to have someone out in that neck of the woods." Erystrar was in the Middle Rim, but right in the middle of an enclave of imperial sympathizers. The last scout ship sent to near neighbor Chodrular was attacked before it made the atmosphere, and sent limping home to Coruscant.

The group fell silent, those still awake either lying back gazing at the stars, or preoccupied with their own thoughts. Luke wandered across to the far side of the deck, and sat with his feet over the edge, looking out into darkness. In the distance, the faint gleam of starlight was visible on the lake's surface.

After a moment's hesitation, Han grabbed two bottles of beer, and walked over to join him.

"Quiet out here," he murmured, sitting down next to Luke and handing him a bottle.

"Not as quiet as Tatooine," Luke remarked.

They drank in silence for a while, not entirely comfortable, but better than Han had expected. He cast a sidelong glance at Luke, hoping for some clue as to Luke's feelings over what had happened earlier. As usual, Luke's face gave nothing away, but Han sensed that Luke was more relaxed with him than he'd been for weeks. Han wondered if this might be because the latest threat was now out in the open.

It also occurred to Han that they were supposed to be using this time to talk, as Luke had promised earlier on. But he no longer felt he had any right to demand that, and maybe Luke felt there wasn't much to say in the circumstances.

"So what now then?" Han asked, intentionally leaving the question open to any interpretation Luke might want to put on it.

Luke turned to look at him, his face pale in the moonlight. "If you've got time before going to Erystrar, d'you wanna help out with the Druso thing?"

Luke's reply gave Han more than just a straight answer to his question. In one way, it meant Luke was trying to get their friendship back on track. But it also meant that they'd really closed the door on the early evening's episode, because Han had offered Luke the chance to mention it and Luke had chosen not to. The stab of disappointment still took Han by surprise, despite the fact that he'd expected Luke to answer in the way he had. But as he'd promised himself, to be fair on Luke he was going to take his lead from Luke's attitude.

"You got it the wrong way round," Han said gruffly. "Erystrar only happens if and when we sort the Druso business out."

Luke smiled at him. "Thanks. How about we head off for Coruscant tomorrow, and set up a meeting with Judd? You can go through all the files, see just what's happened so far. Then we can decide where we go from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Han agreed.

***

After everyone else had finally given in and gone to bed, Luke remained sitting, facing the lake, for a long while. Sleeplessness was something he lived with these days, but instead of lying in bed, wondering restlessly if he'd manage to avoid the nightmares that caused his insomnia, he preferred to concentrate on the tranquility of night.

Strangely, he actually felt more relaxed now than he had for some time, but the reason wasn't wholly down to Han discovering the problems of the Druso affair. That had taken care of just one dilemma. It was more to do with the issue of how he felt about Han. When Han had come to his room earlier on, Luke had never imagined that his friend would approach him in the way he had. It'd taken him totally by surprise, but his reactions to it had been instinctive, and Han had obviously seen them for what they were. And it was also clear to Luke that Han had acted impulsively, and almost as instantly regretted it. His fumbling apology and embarrassment were evidence of that, as was his immediate plea to forget all about it.

But at least Han now had some understanding of the way Luke felt about him. Hiding it away had just added to the strain of everything else, and in some ways hindered his efforts to get on with his life. The sharp ache of regret was something else, and Luke knew he'd have to deal with that later. For the moment, he pushed it aside. He'd have to talk to Mersinn and try to make amends for the mess he'd inadvertently created in her life, but then he'd plan to shrug off the uncertainties of the past months. It was well past time to move on.

***

The _Millennium Falcon_ wove her way through the crowded air traffic above the old Imperial Palace on Coruscant. She came down on a misty platform, high above the teeming speederways that wound through the capital planet's administrative center. Heading for one of the lifttubes, Han scowled to himself as the claustrophobic atmosphere of the urban sprawl enveloped him. _Good to be home_ , he thought sardonically.

The offices of COBISS were housed in a squat octagonal tower that adjoined the old Palace building. Han arrived there before Luke, spending the time waiting with his feet up on Judder Page's desk, scanning idly through Judd's holonews-reader. By the time Luke joined him, he'd come across _High Life_ , a gossipy, sensationalist holomag dedicated to the publication of totally inaccurate, but always lurid, speculation on Coruscant's famous.

" _When Will Luke get Lucky?_ " Han read out.

"What's that all about?" Luke asked, his tone suggesting he anticipated the worst.

"Based on your apparent lack of success in finding a long-term partner, they've made a list of suitable candidates for you. Readers can vote for who they think's best."

"That's nice of them."

Han grinned. "Yeah – good to know they've got your best interests at heart. S'ppose they must be bored of writing about all your one-night-stands."

"Must be," Luke said dryly. "Well, when they've voted, maybe they'll let me know. Where's Judd anyway?"

Han jerked his head back, indicating a door behind him. Inside, he felt another small tension unwind slightly. After Maronia, conversations that mentioned both Luke and relationships at the same time might've become another taboo subject between them if left untouched for too long. He'd also noticed that _High Life_ hadn't considered Han Solo to be one of the candidates worth voting for. Mersinn Lanesh hadn't made the list either.

Moments later, General Madine, followed closely by Judder Page, emerged from the adjoining room. Madine looked worried and distracted, giving only a perfunctory nod to Han and Luke before leaving.

"You've filled him in on Fiore?" Han asked Page.

"Yeah. He's not very happy. We don't seem to be getting anywhere with this, and he's more and more convinced we're dealing with Druso." Page looked across at Luke, a quizzical expression on his face. "The two of you gonna work on this together then?"

Luke nodded. "Can we see the files? I thought it'd be easier if we went through everything first."

"It's all on the COBISS computer now," Page explained. "If you come next door, I can sort you out with an access code."

The three of them entered a large, airy room occupying a whole side of the tower. Four full-height windows of one-way transparisteel gave a spectacular view over the city, whilst retaining privacy for those inside. A bank of computer screens and a holoreader sat beneath the windows. The center of the room held a long rectangular conference table and several chairs, whilst the inner wall had a large holoboard. Luke wandered across to one of the windows, watching the back and forth of speeder traffic, whilst they waited for Page to set up their codes.

Han drifted towards the holoboard, his attention caught by a short row of holos, all of Luke. Two were standard portrait shots, released by the Galactic Alliance and readily available for download all over the HoloNet. But the other two were unofficial, taken from fairly close range. Whoever was doing this had been near to Luke, watching him, maybe following him. The thought sent a chill down Han's spine. Equally disconcerting was the way in which the holos were numbered. For some reason, Han had expected something more discreet – a small number in a corner maybe. But these were large and unmistakable, almost obscuring Luke's features. They managed to imply both casual contempt and targeted hatred.

Han dragged his gaze away, unsettled, and moved to the other end of the board to study the holos of those found dead. But what he saw made him freeze with disbelief. He stared at the faces of the first three for what felt like many minutes, but was probably no more than a few seconds.

Numbly, he forced himself to move down to the fourth holo. The image was an old one, taken some years before her death. As Han stared, the familiarity that had struck him in the porolite factory became something much more substantial.

_Memories. Corellia. Warmth and laughter. A rambling enclosure full of engine parts and body panels of scrapped ships. A sharp sense of loss. She'd left him alone in the end to fend for himself. He'd once dreamt of finding her, but never like this. How could it..._

"Bereljia Kovo," Page said. He'd come up behind Han, puzzling at the shock etched across Han's face.

It _was_ her – Han knew that now. But what had happened to her to alter her appearance almost beyond recognition?

He turned round slowly, finding his voice. "I know," he rasped. "I knew her. I knew them all."

Luke had joined Judd, but the expression on Luke's face didn't echo the astonishment shown by Judd. _Somehow, Luke had already known_.

 

They moved across to the table and sat. An instant later Judd got up again, rummaged around inside a low cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Corulagan brandy and three glasses. He poured a shot for each of them.

Catching Han's eye, he shrugged. "To hell with it. I think we could all do with one."

Han caught the concern in Judd's eyes, but it was overshadowed by something else – a sort of quiet excitement. It was obvious why. Han had given Judd something to work on

The table had built-in datapads that rose up to viewing angle at the flick of a switch. Page keyed in a set of rapid commands, sending information on the four victims to each console.

COBISS had taken possession of the vast databank of imperial files that the Alliance had inherited after taking Coruscant. It had taken months of decoding in order to access them, and even now, there were files which they still hadn't managed to crack. But the databank had produced oddments of information on the victims, and Page had added this in.

They'd discovered the first body 4 months ago. Teshk Dirvinian had once been a tutor at the Naval Academy on Carida. The information in the Imperial databank was sketchy because Dirvinian's details were held in the Carida files, which they'd not yet been able to decode. Han gave his account, filling in what gaps he could.

"Before I showed up, Dirvinian was one of the best fighter pilots around till he lost his legs. There was an accident. Some cadet lost control of his ship and crashed it into Dirvinian's. By the time he managed to eject, his legs were too damaged to save."

Han took a sip of his brandy. "Tight-fisted bastards at the Academy didn't give proper care to anyone 'xcept those at the top, so it meant he was grounded."

"There was no way I was gonna get in," he continued. "I knew it as soon as I arrived. They didn't like anything about me. Dirvinian was different, 'n I guess I got lucky in going against him in the sim run."

Dirvinian had been so impressed with Han's flying skills that he'd put Han through a much more punishing routine than normal. TIEs were difficult to fly, and the lack of shields meant the pilot needed to be especially adept at maneuvering in order to stay alive. The fact that Han _was_ still alive at the end of the simulated run was remarkable, and Dirvinian went out of his way to argue the case for enlisting him.

"I never got to know him properly, 'cause he left just after I started. Had some sorta falling out with the higher ranks. _Ideological differences_ , he said. I thought about him off 'n on over the years. Though I didn't realize it at the time, he didn't see eye to eye with the use the Empire was making of the Navy. It's no wonder they kicked him out."

"It's lucky they let him go, speaking out against the Empire like that," Luke pointed out.

"Yeah – well I guess his injuries helped a bit. He probably wasn't seen as much of a threat."

Han glanced across at the row of images on the holoboard. Of the four, Teshk Dirvinian was the easiest to talk about. Although he'd once owed the man a debt of gratitude, it seemed ridiculous that such a brief acquaintance might've led to the man's death. He couldn't think of a reason for it, but there had to be some sort of connection. The futility of it made him angry, but that didn't come close to the feelings the deaths of the other victims brought. He was going to have to dredge up memories he'd hoped to leave well alone.

 

The Imperial databank had nothing on Bereljia Kovo. To Han, it felt like she'd been in his life almost from the beginning. Some of his earliest memories were of the scraps of metal and tang of engine oil that characterized her repair yards.

"I used to wander about her yards whenever I wanted. She never stopped me, even when she was busy."

When he'd first known her, she'd seemed without a care in the world, but as the years passed, she'd grown increasingly preoccupied.

"Her father brought her up alone after her mother died. It was something hereditary. Bereljia had it too. She used to go to the Prystyn Medcenter every month so they could check up on her. She had treatment there, but I dunno what it was.

"Then the Medcenter told her it couldn't do any more for her 'cause the disease had spread too much. They wanted her to go to a medical center on Ullapi to take part in some new research. It was gonna be a long job, but they thought she might recover."

And so Bereljia had left Corellia shortly after, hugging Han whilst fighting back the tears.

_"As soon as you can," she'd said to him, "you come out to Ullapi and see me. We'll make drop-breads together – it'll be just like old times."_

"Did you get there?" Luke asked.

"Yeah, but it was years later," Han said, "Only there _was_ no such center. None of the other medcenters had heard of any research into the disease."

"That's strange."

"I figured she'd just made it up 'cause she knew she was gonna die. She would've wanted to spare me that. But I should've tried harder to find her."

"But by then you must've thought she'd died. Even if you'd tried to find her she could've gone anywhere in the galaxy. It'd take a million lifetimes and more to search it and you still might not've found her," Judder reasoned.

"Someone managed it," Han said heavily.

"Maybe they knew where she was all along," Luke said. "It's hard to imagine her death's got anything to do with you. It was a long time ago when you knew her. Maybe it was something to do with her links to the Prystyn Medcenter?"

"There's gotta be something in that," Judd agreed. "It's too much of a coincidence that the Drusos were tied up with that place too. But before we start asking ourselves questions like that, I reckon we should hear everything Han has to say first. Then we can pull all the facts together and see where it takes us." He cast a glance at the face in the second holo, and then turned to Han.

"How well did you know Marika Bronn?"

"I knew Deqqlish – her father – pretty well. He saved Chewie 'n I's lives, and then died 'cause of it," Han said.

"It was about two years after I'd been kicked out at Sebrara. Chewie 'n I'd fallen in with Deqq, and taken on a coupla runs for him out of Nar Shaddaa – mostly Hutt stuff, pretty minor. We were there picking up a load when stormtroopers raided the place. I thought we'd be okay – just ride it out, but then I saw Velerrin."

"Wasn't he your commanding officer on the _Dictator_?" Page asked.

"Yeah, Captain Terrin Velerrin. The guy was one fucked up sadist from beginning to end," Han muttered viciously.

Sebrara had been the construction site for a huge new shipbuilding yard. The Empire had brought in Wookiee slaves to do the hard labor. Lieutenant Han Solo, on his first posting on board the supervising Star Destroyer _Dictator_ , had witnessed the cruelty that accompanied the Empire's rule. The final straw had been the treatment of the Wookiees. Han had been assigned land duty, overseeing the squads controlling the Wookiee workers. One of the Wookiees, Chewbacca, had gained a reputation as a troublemaker. Velerrin had seen an incident at the yard involving Chewbacca, Han and a member of Han's squad, and decided to make an example of Chewbacca by ordering his execution. It was to have been a spectacle – designed to intimidate the other slaves, and show just how the Empire treated dissent. It would also have been an oblique punishment for Han, who'd, in Velerrin's view, grown far too friendly with the Wookiees. Han had decided that Chewbacca, along with the rest of the Wookiee slave crew, would be better off missing the whole thing.

"Velerrin always had it in for me, and I reckon he knew I'd been involved in the Wookiees' escape. He got the blame at first. There was some weird stuff going on around that time, and Velerrin got himself suspected of treason. Some Intelligence guy from Coruscant arrested him. The whole business probably ruined his career, so if he'd gotten hold of us, we'd have been dead meat," Han continued. "Course he'd have made sure we suffered first."

"But have you ever been to Nar Shaddaa?" he continued. "Place is full of secret passages. Deqq showed us a way down. If you didn't know about it, you'd never find it. We took Marika down with us. Tried to make Deqq come too, but he knew the Imps'd expect to see him, and said he'd pass our ship off as his. Chewie 'n I'd bought it from him, but the ship's computer still thought Deqq was the owner anyway. Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Han shook his head, the ugly memories crowding his mind. Why was it that so many good ideas had a habit of turning into nightmares?

"The problem was, Velerrin had a tip-off. He'd found out I'd started doing runs for Deqq, so he'd gone to Nar Shaddaa 'cause he knew I'd be there. I thought we'd been unlucky – just timed our trip to coincide with an Imp raid. Never thought Velerrin would've gone there just for me. I'd've stayed with Deqq if I'd known." Han's voice was bitter with regret. "I never found out what the bastards did to him before they killed him, but I sure as hell meant to get Velerrin for it." But Han never had the chance. The _Dictator_ , and Velerrin with it, went down in battle less than a year later.

"What did you do with Marika afterwards?" Page asked.

"We went on to Perunia. Some friends there took her in, gave her a new name. I didn't wanna take the chance of the Empire hunting her down just for the fun of it. Men like Velerrin have long memories."

"D'you remember what name she took on?"

"Isala Du'Rhush. They were gonna say she was a niece of Shil Du'Rhush, an old friend of mine."

"Did you keep in touch?"

Han shook his head. "Too risky for her. I'd already got her father killed. It had to be a clean break – not just for her sake but for Shil's too."

Page tapped in a few commands on his holopad, and waited a few seconds for the requested information to appear on the screen. When it did, he grimaced.

"Isala Du'Rhush _is_ here. The image is a poor one, but it's undeniably Marika Bronn. She was arrested during the Danril Uprising five years ago."

"And?" Han asked sharply.

"According to this, she was sent to the swamp camps on Jarodine."

"How long for?" Luke asked.

Page shook his head. "Doesn't say, but I doubt she'd have got out quickly."

"We helped free Jarodine the year after Endor," Luke pointed out. "A lot of the prisoners in the swamps were taken to the medcenter in Taramine. They might have records."

"We can check that out," Page said. "If we can find out what happened to her..."

"We _know_ what happened to her," Han said.

"Yeah – eventually. But maybe we can find out what happened _before_ that. It's worth a try. She must've started using her real name again."

"Or somebody found out about it."

"Maybe Han and I could go to Jarodine – ask a few questions?" Luke suggested.

Page nodded slowly. "It's no use me saying I'd rather you kept out of this now is it? You'd just go anyway."

"Do we need to answer that?" Luke smiled.

"Is Shil in those files?" Han asked suddenly, interrupting the thread of the conversation.

"Han..." Luke objected.

"I gotta know. How much worse can it get?"

 _A lot worse_ , Luke thought.

Page hesitated, then keyed in the name. "He's not here."

Han let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It didn't mean Shil was alive, but at least he wouldn't have to think about _that_ friend's torture at the hands of the Empire. In some ways, it was better not to know everything.

 

Finally, they moved on to the man who'd been the third victim – Ferim Saguno. As with Teshk Dirvinian, Han had known Saguno only slightly. He'd also done Han a big favor. Han listened to what Judd had to say about him first. There'd be time enough to add his own story.

As Captain of a Corellian bulk freighter, Saguno had run a small, lucrative trade in graaxite ore between his Corellian homeland and nearby Ghandrellia. He undertook the run himself for a number of years, before his profits enabled him to buy a small fleet and the crew to go with it. Saguno continued in business for a further 5 years before deciding to sell up and retire in comfort. He'd had few run-ins with the Empire, but had made it into imperial files due to trading links with the Ghandrellian Klathorne-Raad factory. Judder's attempts to explore this link further had met with no success. The factory still existed, but it seemed to be a straightforward metals testing and manufacturing unit. Whatever it was that the Empire had found interesting was either well hidden in encrypted files, or erased.

Finishing his brief account, Judd turned to Han. "Did you meet Saguno on Corellia?"

Han shook his head. "Nah – didn't get back there much. Always wanted to keep movin' on." He cast a quick glance at Luke – the fact that Han had failed to move on for a number of years now stood in obvious contradiction to this statement.

"I met him on Ghandrellia," he added.

"You were there?" Judder asked, sounding intensely intrigued. "Whereabouts?"

"Ghandine."

Judder whistled softly. "D'you ever hear of the Klathorne-Raad factory then? It's close to the port."

Han gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, I know where it is – I worked there for a year."

Page leaned forward in his seat, looking excited. "I've always had a feeling about that place. Like it's got a key role somehow."

"You've been there?" Han asked.

Judder nodded. "Soon after Saguno's death. I thought I might find something out about the place – like why Saguno had been checked up on by the Imps. But there's nothing left from those days. The place burned down over 20 years ago, and took the staff datafiles with it. Lots of people died – the manager too. The place started with a more-or-less clean slate after that. Nobody employed there now knows anything about any Imperial involvement from back then. Maybe you know something more?"

Han shrugged – he certainly hadn't noticed any Imperial interest or anything odd going on. He'd been stuck in the basement with its heat and noise. "I just remember that the place made metal-working machines and tools. Least it did in the basement. They tried out new alloys in the labs."

Han had spent most of his time operating a beam-grinder. You had to concentrate hard if you wanted to keep all your fingers, so he hadn't paid much attention to what went on around him. He had no clear idea of what had gone on in the offices.

"My friend Jak Zembeki worked in the labs as an assistant, but it was just stress testing on new metals. Boring, everyday kinda stuff."

"Did you ever see inside the labs?" Luke asked.

Han shook his head. "I only knew what went on 'cause Jak told me. The closest I got were the storerooms, and there wasn't much in those."

"D'you think there _could've_ been other things happening there? Would your friend have known about it?"

Han frowned. "If there'd been something going on in the labs, Jak would've known. And he'd have told me if there was."

"What made you leave? Was it just time to move on?" Page asked.

"I never planned on being there in the first place," Han muttered. He explained briefly how he'd ended up there by accident, about his meeting and friendship with Jak, and their scheme to raise money to buy a passage out.

"Then it all went wrong."


	9. Chapter 9

### Ghandrellia, 21 years ago

Jak pushed up from the grass, brushing his hair out of his eyes, and squinted at his chrono. "Break's almost over. We have to get back," he said.

Han rolled over and yawned. "What's the point? We've got what we need right here. I reckon we should go straight to Kravinch and get our money. We can leave as soon as we're ready."

Jak stared at him. After all this time of planning, the reality of leaving was suddenly scary.

"Anyway," Han continued, "we might get seen going back, or they might find out about the crystals and link 'em to us. It's safer now to cut 'n run."

"Yeah, you're right," agreed Jak slowly. "It's just, well, now it's here..."

"We grab the chance."

"I wanna sort out a few of my things," Jak said. "Is there time?"

"Sure. You get back there, do what you wanna do, and I'll go find Kravinch. I'll meet you at 17 hundred hours at the Deriss caf bar. Then we'll work out what we're gonna do."

Jak nodded, and the two set off down the hill for the last time, leaving the Klathorne-Raad factory behind them. Neither felt any desire to look back.

 

A couple of hours later, Han was feeling very pleased with himself. Kravinch had told him he knew a buyer for the crystals, and he'd have the money available for Han to collect later that evening. They'd agreed on a price that exceeded Han's expectations. Even better, Kravinch had given Han the name of a captain who ran a ship between Ghandrellia and Corellia. Ferim Saguno had agreed to take both Han and Jak tonight in return for a few small jobs on board. All Han had to do was to collect first Jak, and then the money.

The first should've been straightforward enough, but Jak paled when Han explained the plans.

"Back to Corellia?" he asked, agitation written all over his face.

"We need to get off this dump," Han reasoned. "Soon as we get to Corellia, we can go straight off again. We'll have lots of money left, and we'll easily find a ship there to take us anywhere we wanna go."

"Can't we wait to find someone else here?"

Han shook his head. "Not now. They're gonna know at the factory we didn't show up this afternoon. If they've found out about the missing crystals, it ain't gonna take 'em long to put two 'n two together. We need to go now, before they stop us."

"It's just... Corellia has bad memories for me," Jak said slowly.

"Yeah, I know. But we don't wanna get caught."

They downed their mugs of caf and headed out into the street. Just meters from the bar, Han stopped suddenly, causing Jak to bump into him from behind.

"Hey!" Jak exclaimed.

"Shhh," Han hissed. Motioning for Jak to stay where he was, Han edged forward to look around the corner of the next building. What he saw made his blood run cold. Armed security guards from the Klathorne-Raad factory were advancing down the street. They had a purposeful air, and Han didn't waste any time guessing what that purpose might be. There'd be others too, probably fanning out around the back streets and covering the port. Overkill on the factory's part, but just the response Han would've expected. They couldn't lose this chance to get out. Returning to Jak, he grabbed his arm, pulling him off in a stumbling run in the opposite direction. When they'd covered two streets, Han stopped, gasping for breath.

"What _is_ it?" Jak panted.

"They've found out."

Jak stared at him in shock. "So... now what?"

"We go ahead. We need to collect the money, but I'll go alone 'cause it'll be easier. You get to the port, but go round through the Ostega quarter. They won't expect us to go that way."

The Ostega quarter was home to Ghandine's elite – a leafy, comfortable enclave of large villas and secluded gardens. With care, Jak should be able to make it through to Saguno's ship unseen.

"But what about you?" Jak asked anxiously.

"Don't worry about me. I'll get there. Hurry up 'n go will ya."

 

And incredibly, Han made it, although he couldn't work out how he'd got through the alerted port security guards so easily. The problem was, Jak wasn't there. It was only a matter of time before the guards began questioning the crew, and their chances of escape were narrowing by the minute. Luckily for Han, Captain Saguno preferred to put his faith in a fellow Corellian, rather than a group of self-important Ghandrellian officials. As far as Saguno was concerned, turning Han in for what he considered a minor offence was not an option, so he'd hidden Han inside a packing crate of empty graaxite measures.

Han crouched there, nerves taut with anxiety, waiting for Saguno to return with news of Jak. He didn't have long to wait, but the news, when it came, was the worst it could be. The port officials had found Jak in the private landing bays of the Ostega quarter, and had taken him to the waiting Klathorne-Raad guards. At the sight of the guards, Jak had panicked and run, and one of the guards had fired his blaster, killing him instantly.

Saguno, not wanting to be implicated in the episode, left Ghandrellia straight away. Han stayed in the packing crate, too shocked to move. It took two members of Saguno's crew to talk him out of there.

  


### Present day

There were several moments silence as Han concluded his story. Han found himself waiting for the touch of Luke's hand on his arm – a gesture of sympathy he'd once taken for granted. When it didn't come, he felt something close to a physical ache inside.

"I'm sorry," Luke was saying instead. "That's a horrible thing to have happened."

"Crazy ain't it? The first time I ever told anyone what to do, and they end up dead."

"You did what you thought was right. You weren't responsible for Jak's death – the factory guards were."

"I shouldn't have let him go by himself."

"You couldn't have known. You can't live your life thinking things might not've happened if you'd done something different. None of us can." Luke gave Han a wry look as he said this, acknowledging his own expertise in self-recrimination.

"Anyway, it might not've made any difference whichever way you did it," Page put in.

"What d'you mean?"

"What if Jak's death had nothing to do with the stolen crystals? At least, not directly. You said you couldn't work out how you got to the ship without them stopping you. What if they weren't bothered about you in the first place? Say something was going on at the factory, and Jak knew about it? Maybe he found out by accident, or maybe he knew all along. Whatever – when he doesn't turn up that afternoon, people get suspicious. If they thought he was trying to get off the planet, they'd have wanted to stop him. And if they'd lost trust in him – far better to shoot him and silence him."

"It just doesn't add up. I _knew_ Jak."

"How well though?" Judder asked. "You said yourself he never spoke of his past."

"And it's odd that they killed him if there wasn't more to it," Luke pointed out. "He was hardly dangerous – why shoot him?"

Han looked thoughtfully at Luke for a few moments. "Seemed like the kinda thing the guards'd do. Shoot first, think later. But if there's anything in what you're saying, surely they'd have wanted to kill me too? How could they be sure Jak hadn't told me things? They must've known we'd gone together."

He paused for a moment, frowning. "You know, this is the second time this week I've thought about the Klathorne-Raad factory."

"Why?" Luke asked.

"On Fiore – when we went to the porolite factory – there was a piece of machinery there. A Klathorne-Raad beam grinder. I recognized the logo."

Page shrugged. "The factory shipped widely. Probably just coincidence."

"You reckon? There are just a few too many coincidences cropping up lately if you ask me. And you said yourself you think the factory has something to do with all this. I think we should go there first, not Jarodine. I wanna see the place for myself again."

***

Chewbacca stopped for a few moments to gain his breath. His keen senses told him that it was still day time, yet little light penetrated this far down. Gazing upwards through the enormous, towering trunks of the wroshyr trees, he thought he could glimpse the first forks of branches that represented the beginning of the Wookiees' domain. If that was the case, he had about another half day's climb before he reached the village. It would be long past nightfall by then, but Chewbacca knew that all the tribe would be waiting for his return. Then the celebrations and the feasting would continue until dawn. It had been an arduous few days, but the aches in his arms and legs seemed almost irrelevant compared to the deep sense of fulfillment the journey had given him.

Miles below him, on the surface of Kashyyyk, Chewbacca had laid the body of the much-loved Arrfruun to rest. The old Wookiee looked at home and at peace amongst the huge tree roots that crossed the planet's surface. He'd gazed on the scene for long moments, conscious of the immense quiet and solitude of his surroundings. Soon, it would be time to leave here. For the first time since arriving on his homeworld, a small flutter of alarm stirred Chewbacca's blood. The feeling that things were spiraling out of control gave rise to a persistent uneasiness in the Wookiee, but it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where this disquiet came from.

The problem wasn't just with Han, despite the fact that his closest friend had become even moodier and more volatile than ever in the last few months. Chewbacca had seen Han in just about every frame of mind imaginable. He knew them all for what they were, including this latest. This time, Han had been particularly slow at openly acknowledging the feelings that were eating away at him, but Chewbacca understood that he had specific reasons for that. He also knew that Han would work his way through them eventually. And when he did so, Chewbacca had to hope that Luke would be there.

Because it was within Luke that the real problems lay. The shadows that lurked behind Luke's eyes hadn't diminished as the year had worn on, but deepened, and he'd begun to cultivate an aura of isolation that was getting harder and harder to breach. Something needed to happen, to prevent the specter of Talandir breaking a bond of friendship that ought to be helping, rather than hindering, Luke's recovery.

So, much as he loved to spend time on Kashyyyk, Chewbacca felt he'd left Han and Luke to their own devices for long enough. After the celebrations died down, he'd make plans to rejoin his friends.

***

Page's comlink beeped, and he thumbed it on. He spoke briefly, and then crossed to the bank of computers.

"Transmission from Fiore," he explained.

Moments later, a foggy image of Friela Evlar's face appeared on one of the screens.

"I've got something that might be important," she said.

"Go on."

"Is this secure?"

Page assured her that it was, and Evlar nodded. "It's about my brother, Haric." There was a moment's hesitation before she continued. "He'd been in the porolite factory just before we arrived there."

"He told you that?"

Evlar shook her head, her expression a mixture of anxiety and fear. "No. There's a problem. He's disappeared."

They spoke for a minute or so more, with Evlar explaining her find of the engraved gemstone that she'd seen in Haric's possession only the day before they'd visited the factory. Judd ended the transmission and turned to Luke and Han.

"What d'you think?"

"Her brother's involved in an activist group – call themselves the Swelvarne Front. She was worried about 'em planning something big," Han said.

"She didn't think to mention this to me before?" Page asked.

Han shrugged. "They're not anti-Alliance. As far as I know, they're just trying to get a good deal for unemployed factory workers. I guess she wanted to question her brother first, check his being there was just a coincidence."

Page raised his eyebrows skeptically. "And this 'bigger thing'?"

"I got the feeling she was thinking about attacks on people running the industries. I don't think they've hit on people before, just buildings."

"Until now, maybe."

"He doesn't really sound like he'd be an imperial sympathizer," Luke said.

"No," Page agreed. "Assuming this business _is_ anything to do with the imperials. Whatever, this puts him in the factory at the right time."

"Just 'cause he was there doesn't make him a killer," Han pointed out.

Luke shook his head. "No. But he could be a witness."

"Then he might be dead."

Luke grimaced. "Looks like we'd better try talking to members of Evlar's group. I suppose the Fiore security people might know who they are?"

"Yeah, I guess," Judd sighed. "The question is, do we all go to Fiore, or should I go whilst you two check out Ghandrellia?"

Han and Luke looked at each other for a few moments. Although Fiore was probably the most urgent trip, it'd become important to Han to confront the memories that had pushed themselves back into his mind. From the smile Luke gave him, Han knew that Luke instinctively understood this.

"Why don't you go to Fiore?" Luke suggested. "Han and I can go to Ghandrellia, and if we turn nothing up in either place, maybe we can all meet up on Jarodine?"


	10. Chapter 10

### Ghandrellia

The _Millennium Falcon_ breached Ghandrellia's atmosphere, meeting a thick bank of gray cloud. It obscured their approach to Ghandine, the landing bays of which came hazily into view as the _Falcon_ prepared to put down. To Han, it seemed that little had changed in 21 years. The bays had new duracrete, and the random scatter of plasteel prefabs that had surrounded the pads had gone, replaced by more-permanent structures. Other than that, the port exuded the same aura of scruffy, down-at-heel sleaziness that Han remembered well. Beyond the _Falcon_ 's bay, Han saw the line of trees that divided the public bays from the private ones of the wealthy Ostega quarter. The trees were older and thicker now, but otherwise looked pretty much as Han recalled. The memories of this place though, for years confined to an area of his mind that he'd closed off, were as distinct as ever.

He looked away from the trees, to find Luke's eyes on him.

"You okay?"

"Sure," Han nodded. He'd been okay with it for over 20 years. Damned if he was going to let that change now.

Assuming carelessness he didn't feel, Han sauntered into the passenger lounge to collect his jacket and blaster belt. He picked up Luke's jacket too, and flung it across to him.

"You'll need this. It's pretty damp and miserable here."

The obvious place to start was the Klathorne-Raad factory, despite the fact that Judder Page had already made an unproductive visit there. For one thing, Han's memories of the place were becoming intrusive. Seeing the factory again was something he needed to get out of his system, and a first step on reconciling himself with the past.

Luke walked beside him, silent and preoccupied. Han knew he had Luke's moral support, but the openness Han hoped to regain had slipped further out of his reach. Of course, he'd only himself to blame for that. He wondered what it would take now to place their relationship back on the easy, casual footing that it used to have.

They'd tried to talk on the flight, but it'd been stilted and difficult. Luke had been reluctant to explain how he'd worked out that Han had known all the victims, dismissing it all with some vague story involving dreams. Reading between the lines made Han feel even worse than he did already, knowing that Luke was trying to shield him from a part of himself that he believed Han found hard to accept.

Luke was wrong in thinking that, but attempting to explain his own complex feelings towards events that'd happened in the past usually left Han getting into even deeper water. It was true that he still felt guilty over the whole business of Cloud City, but it wasn't simply the fact that Vader had used him to trap Luke. It was more to do with the fact that he'd failed to hide from Vader what must've been glaringly obvious, and Vader had acted on what he sensed. Han's biggest weakness had been turned into Vader's triumph, and Han found it hard to deal with because Luke had no real idea of the strength of the feelings Vader had tortured him for. It didn't make any difference either that Han knew Luke would've flown to Bespin regardless. 

And now it felt like they couldn't even talk freely to each other anymore. Maybe Talandir had changed that forever, as it had changed so many things. Maronia had just added another layer of doubt. Han could deal with that because he had to, but it was impossible to do what he'd asked for that evening – to forget about what happened. All he'd succeeded in doing was strengthening a craving that refused to go away.

He'd been over every second of the encounter a hundred times. The overcharged sensations from Luke's touch. The dampness of skin where Luke's tunic clung to it. The warmth beneath his fingers when he'd touched Luke's shoulder. He risked a sideways glance at Luke. With just a hint of encouragement, Han would've turned to him, wanting to feel again that flare of connection that'd taken him over that evening. But Luke's face seemed shuttered, giving nothing away, and Han crushed the ache of disappointment with practiced determination.

At the edge of the factory grounds Han stared in surprise at the scene before them. Even knowing about the fire, he'd still half expected to see the building more-or-less as it had been 21 years ago. But nothing was the same. Where the old, gloomy duracrete building had been, was now a modern structure of blue plasteel girders and wide plates of transparisteel. The original factory had stood two stories high above ground, with the hot, dark basement below. This building was long and low, and extended backwards to where the ridge and prickly hedge used to be. There was no sign of these now. The hill had gone, leveled to expose a panoramic view down to the spaceport of Ghandine.

"I guess it's changed a bit?" Luke asked, noting Han's bemusement.

"I'd never've known it was the same place," Han admitted. It was unsettling to realize that the place that had been haunting his thoughts no longer existed.

They walked over to the gates where a small cabin housed a reception droid. Previously, a couple of heavily armed guards would've greeted visitors with suspicion and in-depth scrutiny of their IDs. Now, the droid merely greeted them pleasantly, asked their names, and gave them directions to the Manager's office.

Vilka Tellura ordered her guests hot cups of caf, and set about explaining the factory's recent history.

"The building was unusable after the fire. The owners started again with a new design.

"Did they carry on producing the same equipment afterwards?" Luke asked.

"Even before the fire, they'd started to think about phasing out some of the heavier manufacturing side," the Manager explained. "They kept up with it for maybe ten more years or so. Now we solely produce and test new metals."

"Is the basement still here?" Han asked.

Vilka Tellura looked at him quizzically. "Part of it is, but it's only used as a storage area now. Did you know the factory?"

"I worked here for a year – before the fire."

She smiled at him with amusement. "I had no idea we'd had such a famous person here."

"Yeah, well I don't think I was very popular when I left."

"It must have been very different then."

"Management style's changed a bit."

"You were here when Stenos Prent ran things?" Tellura asked.

Han nodded. "I heard he was killed in the fire."

"Everyone on the upper floor was. All the doors had an access code system, and the fire jammed the circuitry. People were trapped." She shuddered slightly. "I'm happy to say we don't work like that anymore."

"Was there a need for secrecy in the work the factory did?" Luke asked. "I mean, before the fire?"

"Our business is very competitive. It was probably the same in those days – but then, everything's more open now isn't it?"

"D'you think the Empire had something extra going on in the factory? Something they wanted to keep quiet about?" Han asked.

"I've never found out anything to support that. But of course all the records from that time were destroyed in the fire."

"And that goes for the personnel data too?" Luke asked.

"Everything. We've started again from scratch, so to speak. Something you probably know all about."

Luke looked perplexed. "Sorry?"

"I mean with the Jedi."

"There hasn't been much time to think about that," Luke admitted, after a moment's pause.

"Yes, I can understand that," Tellura said. "The battle for Coruscant took some time."

"Two years," Han said. "Along with the hundred other battles he's fought, and million other problems he gets to deal with."

"Including the one you have now, I suppose?" She held up a hand in a form of apology. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pry. But first, we had your colleague from Coruscant security asking a lot of questions, and now you've both turned up. It's not difficult to put two and two together."

Luke smiled at her. "We're just chasing up a possible link to something, but the factory now and the factory then don't seem to have much in common. There're no workers here from the old days either? Though I guess Judder Page asked that too."

Tellura nodded. "He did, and we've nobody here now who worked before the fire. I can give you the same list of workers I gave Commander Page, but it's going back over ten years. Some of them were here in Prent's day. But their skills lay with the old machines. As we gradually shut down that side of the business, they left for other places. They could be just about anywhere in the galaxy by now."

"It wouldn't hurt to have another look at it I guess," Han said.

Tellura studied Han again. "You must've been very young when you worked here. I suppose you never kept in touch with anybody?"

"Didn't get the chance to, in the end."

They finished their caf, and stood up.

"Is it okay if we take a look round?" Han asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"Be my guests," Tellura offered. "I'll let you wander about by yourselves, but don't go into the back labs without eye visors. You'll see the warning signs."

"Thanks for your help," Luke said.

Vilka Tellura shrugged. "Sorry I couldn't really tell you anything. Come back when you're ready and I'll have a datacard of workers ready for you."

 

If the outside of the factory was unrecognizable, the interior was more so. When Han had worked in the basement, the noise of the machines had made conversation impossible. They'd had to work alone and in poor light, and the thick metal dust that coated everything had made breathing unpleasant. Now the only machine noise in the building came from the subdued clanking of computerized cutters and stampers. The huge transparisteel plate windows allowed the maximum passage of light possible.

Han recalled the old, ferociously hot blast furnaces from before. These had gone, and in their place was a high-tech digital smelting chamber, which emitted only a steady hum from behind its thick, heatproof doors. A filtration system ensured metal dust never made it into the air the workers breathed.

Beyond the production floor, the building branched off at right angles. A set of thick, swing doors led through to the laboratories. Each lab had a separate door, but there for safety rather than secrecy. Darkened windows indicated high-level laser use, and warning signs pointed workers to a row of optical protective visors hanging from hooks.

There seemed to be nothing for them here. No memories, no clues, nothing to trigger a renewal of guilt.

"Han Solo!"

The voice cut across Han's thoughts, and he spun round on his heels.

A young man, around late 20s in standard years, stood there, an eye visor casually pulled down around his neck. He wore a technician's coverall and thick, protective boots.

Han shook his head, puzzled. "Yeah, but...?"

"Irrim Grall. No, you don't know me. Forgive me, but everyone knows you." He nodded at Luke. "And Luke Skywalker, of course."

"HoloNet news has a lot to answer for," Han growled.

"I'm not a celebrity hunter. It's just that my father used to talk a lot about you. And it's a bit of a surprise to see you in here." He waved his hand around, indicating the factory.

"I'm just catchin' up on old times," Han said. "Only, it don't look like old times. I used to work here," he added in explanation.

"I know. It's how my father knew you. He used to work here too. It was his favorite story – whenever we saw your face on the holonews, he'd tell us about how he–"

"Wait a minute," Han cut in sharply. "Your father _worked_ here? When I did?"

"That's right."

"We were told there was nobody here with any connections to the factory before the fire."

Grall looked embarrassed. "Yeah, well actually, nobody really knows. It's just that seeing you – I guess I got a bit carried away."

"What d'you mean, nobody knows?"

Grall hesitated. "My father had to leave. There was some problem, and he got booted out. When I started working here I thought it was probably best not to mention that, even though it was years ago."

"Why was he made to leave?" Luke asked.

"It's funny you should ask that, but it was actually something to do with General Solo."

"What?" Han asked incredulously. He looked at Luke and shook his head, mystified. The name Grall meant nothing to him, but then he'd known very few of the factory workers by name.

Luke addressed Grall. "It's important that we find out as much as we can about the factory when your father worked here. Could you talk to us now? I mean, is there somewhere we can go?"

Grall looked at his chrono and pursed his lips. "I only came out to use the 'fresher. I'm not due off for another couple of hours." He thought for a moment. "Really, the best person to ask would be my father."

"He's still around, on Ghandrellia?" Luke asked quickly.

"Oh yeah," the man smiled. "He's been away a while, but he came back to live with us a few years ago – wanted to see his grandchild grow up. I'll tell you where to find him. Let me contact him, tell him you're on your way."

***

Irrim Grall lived in a house amongst the rambling streets of Ghandine's merchant quarter. Han knew the district well, and walking through it was like stepping back in time. Very little had changed, with the old merchants' houses looking much as Han recalled them. The streets were quiet, although the few inhabitants they encountered seemed to have lost some of the unfriendly reserve that Han remembered. Clearly, the new sense of openness in the galaxy had made its mark even here.

Luke glanced at his chrono. They still had a bit of time before they were due at Grall's home.

"He'll be waiting though," Luke commented. Even over the crackly comlink, they'd heard the excitement in the man's voice.

"I was just wonderin'," Han said, "if we had time to look down there?" He pointed across to a dark, narrow alley leading off the other side of a small square. He'd already started in its direction, and Luke followed him curiously.

"More ghosts," Han explained.

The alley led down a steep hill, then ended abruptly in a small enclosure. A ramshackle stone shack stood there, roofless and decaying. The once lovingly-tended garden was a barren patch. Not even a weed was growing there. Han stared at it, trying to conjure up in his mind the orderly rows of plants that once grew there.

A small sound to their left made Luke turn. An elderly woman stood there, wrapped against the damp in a woolen shawl and headscarf. She eyed them suspiciously.

"You won't find anyone there," she muttered.

"It looks like it's been deserted for years," Luke said.

"Been nobody there for a long time," the old woman grudgingly conceded. "Not since _they_ came."

"Who?" Han asked, turning to face the woman.

"Imperials," she spat contemptuously.

"When?"

"Like I said – a long time ago."

"What did they want?"

The woman shrugged. "How would I know? They took the boy's stuff."

Han stared at her. "His stuff?"

"That's what I said," she snapped, irritated by their questions.

"Sorry. Look, we're grateful for your help," Luke said in a conciliatory tone. "Did you see the boy? Was he there when the Imperials came?"

The woman scowled, but as Han had noted countless times, Luke had the ability to win over even the most unpromising individuals, and he could see the woman visibly warm towards Luke.

"Used to see him a lot. Always in the garden he was. But not when they turned up, and I've never seen him since."

"And nobody's ever been back?"

"No one'd touch it would they?"

"Why not?"

"When the Imperials came, they dug everything up. Took it all away and sprayed the land. Nobody told us anything."

"You mean the land was contaminated?"

The woman shrugged again. "Like I said, nobody bothered to tell us."

After the woman had shuffled away, Han remained silent for several long moments, staring at the shack, his brow creased in a frown. The memories he'd had of this place had been ones he'd preferred not to examine, but now even they felt safe. Everything he'd remembered of the events of 21 years ago seemed suspect, based on some fundamental misunderstanding of the situation.

He turned at last to face Luke, and felt the familiar catch in his breath and twist of feeling inside. Luke stood with his back to the dark alley, and the light from the sky had caught his face, giving it a luminosity that didn't belong in this gloomy place. The dampness in the air had made his hair wispy, and errant strands curled over the collar of his thick black jacket. The urge to go to him, to tangle his fingers in that hair, to make that blue, unfathomable gaze burn with the same need that smoldered inside Han, was almost stronger than his resolve to stay back. _Forget it_ he warned himself, and fixed his mind firmly back on their mission.

"Looks like I didn't know Jak too well after all." His voice was heavy, but Luke would assume it to be because of the past.

"It does look like the Empire was up to something, and Jak found out about it," Luke said slowly. He seemed to be considering something, and a small frown had creased his brow. "Was Jak always interested in plants?"

"Obsessed with 'em. Couldn't go anywhere without collecting somethin' or other."

"And he grew them here?" Luke indicated the shack.

"He didn't just _grow_ them," Han explained. "He _studied_ 'em. Chopped 'em up, crossed 'em with others. You name it, he did it."

"But it was just a hobby? He didn't work with plants in the Klathorne-Raad labs?"

"They didn't have anything to do with plants. Jak was a metals tester. The plants were his private thing."

Han glanced back at the deserted shack and sterile garden. "I don't understand any of this. Maybe he stumbled across something he shouldn't have. The thing was, he wasn't very streetwise, and I shoulda figured out somethin' was wrong."

Luke took a step towards Han, and then stopped abruptly. "You did everything you could to help him. You can't hold yourself responsible for something you didn't know about. You were only fifteen."

"Yeah – but at least I got to _be_ older," Han muttered. "Anyway, old whathisname's gonna be wondering where we are. We'd better go."

 

Ervon Grall shared the small two-storied house with his son Irrim, his son's partner and his grandson. He'd been waiting expectantly for Han and Luke, and ushered them inside. A toddler, overcome with shyness, immediately ran to Grall's leg and clung to it. Grall scooped the child up onto his hip, and set about brewing caf in the traditional, old-fashioned Ghandrellian manner, talking and introducing himself at the same time.

"And you'll be Luke Skywalker," he noted, smiling at Luke.

Luke nodded, returning the smile. 

"Han Solo I already know," Grall continued. "Didn't expect to ever see you in person again though," he added, addressing Han directly.

Han had been studying Grall's face, which despite the changes age had brought, had a distinct familiarity. Suddenly it came to him.

"I remember you! You were part of upper-floor security."

"I always knew you'd do well for yourself," Grall remarked, visibly pleased that Han had remembered him.

"In spite of myself, more like," Han qualified. "But how come you don't wanna kick my ass? From what your son said, you got booted out 'cause of me."

"Actually, it's down to you I'm still alive today – so you could say I owe you one."

Han shook his head, puzzled. "I don't understand."

The caf was ready, delaying Grall's response. Its thick, strong aroma wafted across the room, making Han and Luke realize just how welcome it was. Grall poured it into a jug, which he placed on a tray alongside three small glasses. He waved to Han and Luke to sit down, then sat himself, shifting his grandson onto the seat beside him. The child promptly climbed back onto Grall's legs.

"It's true you got me kicked out," Grall explained, "but you weren't the only reason."

Grall had leaned back in his seat, the child ensconced on one knee, and his glass of caf balanced on his other. "I don't know what you know about the events just before the fire, but Irrim said you want to ask me about them."

"We don't know much," Han admitted. "I reckon there was more going on than I thought."

"We're hoping you might be able to shed some light on that," Luke added.

"I can try," Grall offered. He sipped his caf slowly.

"How did you know my name back then?" Han asked. "I didn't think upper-floor security bothered with the basement." From Han's recollection, the basement had its own guards. He'd studied the security rounds carefully to make sure his clandestine visits to the upper-floor storerooms didn't coincide with the guards' checks, and that was how he'd come to know the various faces.

"I suspected you for months of stealing things from the factory."

Startled, Han choked on his caf. "Guess I wasn't as smart as I thought I was." He threw Luke a quick grin.

Grall laughed. "It was my job to be observant. Most of the stuff you took was trivial – I made a decision not to report it."

"So was that why you lost your job? Sorry – I didn't think about things like that."

"Forget that," Grall said. "It's not important. The reason I didn't do anything at first was because the basement didn't want to lose you. It was rare to find someone who actually did the job well enough to make a difference. They asked me to ignore it. After all, the factory was making more out of having you than it was losing through the thefts. But obviously, I couldn't totally disregard it, so I decided that the next time it happened, I'd have a private word with you. The problem was, the next time involved something a lot more valuable."

"The jespiril crystals?"

Grall nodded. "The number 5 storeroom held all the good stuff. Apart from the higher-level access code – which I guess Zembeki got for you? – there was a hidden holocam."

Han shook his head slowly. At fifteen, he'd thought himself worldly-wise, but he'd been as naive as the next guy.

"One of my colleagues decided this had to go before Prent. Head of security always ran through the holocam footage herself anyway, so Prent would've found out about it later. If we'd tried to cover it up, we'd have been out of there."

"But you were kicked out anyway."

"It wasn't that simple," Grall explained. "By then, the missing crystals were irrelevant. It was the fact that you'd disappeared that caused the uproar."

"But not _just_ me," Han said flatly.

"That's right. Zembeki had disappeared with you."

Grall paused to refill their caf glasses. He sipped on his for a few moments before continuing.

"It didn't take much to work it out. The jespiril crystals were only useful to you as something to sell. It was pretty obvious that the two of you were set on buying a passage off Ghandrellia – it shames me to say it, but Corellians never feel at home here, and always want to leave."

"We'd been planning it for a while. Just took a bit of time to get the money together."

"It was an unfortunate coincidence that you chose the same day Zembeki was due to leave the Factory anyway."

" _What_?" Han asked. "He _can't_ have been. He never said anything."

"He didn't know. The day you disappeared, Prent had visitors from Coruscant. They were due to take Zembeki back with them that evening."

"Hells." Han ran a hand over his face. The whole thing seemed ridiculous.

"A security squad was sent out straight away to pick Zembeki up, but it was a major embarrassment for Prent. He held me responsible for Zembeki's disappearance, because if I'd dealt with _you_ earlier, none if it would've happened.

"So he told you to go?" Luke asked.

"He gave me the rest of the afternoon to clear out my things."

"Terrific," Han muttered.

"Turns out you did me favor, without realizing it. If I hadn't left that day, I'd be dead."

"You said that before," Han said, "but I still don't get it."

"Well, there was the fire."

"The fire was _that day_?" Luke asked in surprise.

"I assumed you knew that," Grall said. "After the business in the port, Prent called everybody back for a security meeting. I was just leaving as everyone else was getting together. Later on I heard the news."

"None of this makes sense," Han said.

"Doesn't it? I think it does to your friend." Grall looked over at Luke, who nodded slowly.

"I guess Prent unwittingly did the Imperials a favor. Got everybody who knew about the business back together. It made their job a bit easier," Luke said.

"You mean the _Imps_ started the fire? They killed 'em all?" Han said, visibly shocked.

"Whatever it was they were up to, they wanted to cover their tracks. No staff left who knew about their visit? No files to prove anything? It does make sense in a horrible sort of way."

"I kept expecting them to come for me too," Grall said. "It took me a while to realize that I'd slipped through their net. Without any files, the Imperials couldn't run a check – and there was no one left alive at the Factory who knew me by name."

"So you left Ghandrellia then?" Luke asked.

"As soon as I could. I had my family to think of. I made a new life for us. After Shafaa died though, I began to get homesick for the old place." As he said this, Grall glanced across at a small framed holo. It showed himself, maybe ten years younger, with his arms around a woman.

"So I came back with my son. Stayed a few years, but couldn't settle. I've always been the restless sort. I went off traveling then. Irrim stayed here because he'd found himself a partner. I came back for the baby's birth."

It was obvious to both Han and Luke that in his grandson Ervon Grall had found a new role in life, and one that had calmed his former restlessness.

"There's still a lot I don't get though," Han said, bringing the conversation back to the events of 21 years ago. "If it's true that the Imps started the fire to cover their tracks, why'd they let me get away?"

"They gave orders that you be allowed to go," Grall explained.

"They– _why_?" Han asked, astounded.

Grall shook his head. "I don't know – it was very odd. I was there in the squad room packing my stuff when the order came in. They were to find Zembeki, but they weren't to touch you."

"But they couldn't have known that Jak hadn't told me what was going on at the Factory," Han argued.

Grall frowned. "Going on? There wasn't anything going on."

"Huh? Then what did they want Jak for? He must've found out _something_."

Grall shook his head again. "It was Zembeki himself they wanted. Nothing to do with the factory. He just happened to work there."

There were a few moments of silence as this information sunk in.

"D'you know why? I mean, who were these people anyway?" Luke asked eventually.

"I don't know _why_ they wanted him, but I do know they wanted him very badly. As for who they were, I can't tell you that either, other than that they were from Coruscant. I did see their badges though. Does GRF mean anything to you?"

Han and Luke looked at each other, mystified. They had no idea what it meant, but Judder Page, with his access to the Imperial files, might have a good chance of finding out.

"But if they wanted Jak that much," Han said, "why'd they let the guards kill him?"

Grall stared at Han. "What do you mean? They didn't kill him."

"Who did then?"

"Nobody. The Imperials left Ghandrellia with Jak Zembeki alive."


	11. Chapter 11

Judder Page and Major Evlar were having a frustrating day. It was as though everybody who'd ever worked in Fiore's porolite industry had signed a pact denying any knowledge of Haric Evlar. Also, the people named by Fiore Security as associates of Evlar had all disappeared.

"It's weird," Page said, "but now I know what it's like to be on the other side. No-one's gonna answer any questions from anyone carrying a Security ID."

"Tell me about it," Evlar said. "But whatever they think, you're still on the right side."

"Even though I'm looking for your brother?"

"He needs finding. I think he's got involved in something that's more complicated than he realizes."

"Well if he's stumbled across our little problem, I just hope we find him before someone else does," Page muttered grimly.

Page's comlink beeped.

"Someone you might want to see, Commander," came Admiral Krefal'gh's fluting voice.

 

They found a human woman with the Admiral, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"I've promised no names," Krefal'gh explained. "An associate of the Swelvarne Front group has some information she'd like to share."

"Who are these two?" the woman snapped. She pointed a finger at Evlar. "She's from Fiore Security. I told you I didn't want anything to do with them."

Page and Evlar pulled out their ID holofoils and held them out for inspection. The woman studied Page's with amusement, but narrowed her eyes when she read the name of Evlar's.

"Haric Evlar's sister, huh?" she said.

"You know my brother?" Evlar asked.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Actually, you're the first person we've met who does."

The woman stared at them in surprise, then gave a short laugh. "Oh yeah. I see."

"You've got some information for us?" Page asked mildly.

"I'd like to know what you're doing here first."

"We're not here to harass the Front's members, but we think they could be in danger."

"I've heard all that kind of stuff before. It's just an excuse for interference."

The words were defiant, but Page thought he detected a note of relief behind them. "D'you think Coruscant Security would come all the way out here to investigate a group of factory workers? And it was you who came to us. We didn't track you down."

She assessed them both carefully for a few moments longer, before shaking her head with resignation. She pulled a datapad from her jacket pocket, and handed it to Page.

"This contains something I copied from a friend's datapad. A member of the Front. Don't ask for names, because I'm not giving any. And don't bother to analyze the card, because it's clean. I'm giving it to you because I'm the only one who seems to have seen the danger in this. If these plans go wrong, everything the Front's ever fought for is gonna be wasted. And that's far from the worst of it."

In silence, Page studied the file that the woman had clandestinely copied. His frown had deepened by the time he'd scrolled down to the end.

He turned to Major Evlar and Admiral Krefal'gh. "We need to contact Coruscant. Urgently."

***

Back on the _Falcon_ , Han and Luke gathered their things for an overnight stay, preparing to head back into the heart of Ghandine to find a room.

Han had wanted to leave Ghandrellia immediately, but Luke had urged him to wait. The last few days had hit Han hard. Behind the bravado, Luke could see the strain of tiredness in his eyes. To embark on a long hyperspace trip to Jarodine this evening would be unreasonable. And they needed to talk.

For one thing, Luke knew that Han's air of nonchalance masked a more complex set of feelings. Confusion, along with hurt and a sense of betrayal. He'd lived the past 21 years with feelings of guilt over the death of a friend, believing he'd been partly responsible for it. Now he'd discovered that those feelings had no foundation.

But Ervon Grall's revelation wasn't the only issue Han was trying to deal with. Things had become even more difficult between them since Maronia, and although they'd both tried hard to put things in perspective and move on, they'd succeeded only in creating additional tension. Luke knew it had to break eventually, for both their sakes.

He knew Han would continue to say nothing about it, anxious not to hurt his feelings. That meant it was up to him, and somehow he had to convince Han that he really had put it behind him. That he'd forgotten how, for just one short, wonderful moment, he'd believed it was real.

He'd tried to maintain a facade of casualness about it, determined not to give Han cause to doubt him. But at odd moments he'd caught an intensity in Han's gaze that seemed to challenge him into admitting he'd failed. It was bad enough having to pretend that none of it mattered, but if he wasn't even managing that, he'd have to be even more vigilant over his thoughts.

So he'd persuaded Han that they should find a guesthouse. If they stayed on the _Falcon_ , they'd both find jobs to do as an easy means of avoiding conversation. A room somewhere would be neutral territory. If they could settle the breach of friendship, they could leave for Jarodine better able to deal with any nasty surprises that might be waiting for them there.

 

Ghandine was used to the comings and goings of travelers wanting a break from cramped cabins, so rooms were easy to find. They settled for a small guesthouse close to the merchant quarter.

"You wanna get something to eat?" Han asked.

"D'you know anywhere?"

Han shrugged. He and Jak hadn't had the money to eat out, and hadn't taken much notice of what was around. "We'll just have to wander about – see what we can find."

They headed away from the port with its overpriced, grimy bars, and came across a huddle of streets centered round a group of taverns. The scent of spices wafted across the air.

They chose one with an enclosed garden and a tall outdoor oven that cast enough warmth to make sitting outside possible. Uncertain about what to order, they allowed the server droid to choose for them. Most things seemed to be spicy, and came with tiny glasses of b'rouli, the local spirit.

Luke tasted the colorless liquid cautiously. It was pretty much as he'd anticipated. Innocuous-looking, with a mild, grainy flavor, which lulled you into a false sense of security. The kickback was the equivalent of a punch to the guts, accompanied by a searing fieriness that threatened to strip the skin from the back of his throat. As a complement to the spicy food, it did a lousy job.

"You're s'pposed to knock it back, not sip it," Han remarked pointedly.

"So try practicing what you preach." Luke indicated Han's untouched glass.

Han downed the spirit, then sat back and waited for Luke to do the same. As soon as he'd done so, Han refilled both their glasses then turned round in his seat, trying to catch the attention of the server droid so they could have another jug. Luke guessed it was going to be a long night in more ways than one.

Twisting his glass around in his hands, Luke wondered which subject to bring up first. The problems between them? Even the way they were sitting – on opposite sides of the table – was evidence of how much things had changed. It was an easy way to avoid any accidental touching.

It was absurd, because nothing had happened on Maronia anyway, and if he put it in the context of all the other problems they'd dealt with, such as toppling an Empire, it should've been laughable. The b'rouli was helping him to relax, but the idea of talking about that evening still filled him with tension.

Yet Jak Zembeki was hardly an easier topic of conversation – especially as they must both have reached similar conclusions. Avoiding the subject was just postponing the inevitable. They had to discuss it properly, not skirt around the edges. They needed a plan, after all. He swirled the b'rouli around in the glass. Maybe a few more would help make the decision for him. Then again, he might end up saying too much.

"You don't have to drink it," Han muttered, interrupting his thoughts.

"I know. Maybe I want to."

"And maybe you don't."

"A lot of the time I'm not sure what I want."

"You seem pretty certain of things to me."

"We both know it's a good act."

Han gave a half-hearted grin. "So drink up then."

Luke complied, and set his glass down with a shudder. This didn't escape Han, but for once, he didn't home in on it. Instead, he settled Luke's dilemma with a simple question.

"It's him ain't it?"

Luke chose his words carefully. "We can't be sure. We only have Grall's word that he didn't die that day. It was a long time ago. Maybe Grall's got it wrong."

"Nah – he remembers perfectly. It's not just that though is it? Everything fits. Jerik Druso was the same age as me and came from Corellia. Jak Zembeki was my age and came from Corellia. Druso's parents got arrested and Druso disappears. At the same time, Jak's parents were killed on Corellia, and he gets away."

"Similar things happened to a lot of people. It could be just coincidence."

Han shook his head. "I don't think so. It's odd how Jak wouldn't talk about his past. And he was a scientist, like Jerik Druso."

"Druso worked in a genetics lab. Jak was a metals tester."

"Yeah right. And the Imps came all the way from Coruscant to take away an apprentice metals tester?"

"We don't know why they wanted him. We don't even know who they were."

"No, but I'll bet you a crate of Corellian brandy the GRF ain't gonna turn out to be some cuddly bunch of rebel sympathizers."

Han continued, voicing the thoughts that had passed through Luke's mind almost exactly. "Then we've got genetically engineered plants cropping up full of some weird poison. Jak's hobby was plants. He grew some odd stuff. And why would the Imps clear the land like that?"

"But Jak wouldn't have been able to do research in that shack. He'd have needed specialist equipment."

"Sure," Han agreed. "He probably couldn't have done that kinda thing in there. Doesn't mean he didn't know how to though does it?"

"No," Luke acknowledged.

"So you gotta admit, it seems pretty certain."

"We need more evidence."

"You're stalling 'cause you don't wanna be the first to say it. But you think it's him just as much as I do. Admit it – Jak Zembeki and Jerik Druso are the same person."

***

Judder Page and Friela Evlar waited impatiently for their ID verifications to go through the console. Finally they gained access to the military HoloNet transceiver.

Madine's image shimmered with interference, before steadying.

"Have you tracked this maniac down yet?" the General snapped.

"We've found something out sir," Page replied "but you're not gonna like it."

Madine listened as Page recounted the information he'd got from the woman's datacard.

"Where are Solo and Skywalker?" was his first question.

"Haven't they called in?" Page asked, a twinge of uneasiness worming its way into the pit of his stomach.

"We haven't heard anything from them. I thought they were with you," Madine growled.

"They went to Ghandrellia – we discovered another link to the metals factory."

"Well just get hold of them and tell them to get back here."

Page hesitated. "We might have a problem."

Madine waved his hand impatiently. "Get on with it, man."

"One of the victims spent time on Jarodine. They might go straight there."

There was a moment's silence before Madine spoke. "I'll contact Antilles."

***

"I think there's a good chance they're the same person," Luke admitted, relieved at last to say it.

"Right. Then let's go even further. There's also a good chance that Jak Zembeki's carrying out this killing spree."

Luke shook his head. "I don't know. It all seems so–"

"Ridiculous?" Han interrupted. "That an old friend might've turned against me? I could give you a list of so-called friends I've had if that'd make it easier to understand."

"I don't think you really find it easy to understand."

Han started to raise his hands as though in protest, but gave up. "Yeah, you're right. I don't understand. I don't get it at all."

"We don't know what the Imperials did to him."

"But he was so..." Han shook his head, looking for the right word. "He'd never've hurt anyone."

"From what you've told me, it sounds like something had hurt _him_ in the past. We know the Empire took his parents. He'd be pretty traumatized when you met him."

"But he'd have hated the Imps."

"Sure – and his personal reasons for that made him vulnerable. They might've found ways to break him."

They stared at each other for a few moments, not wanting to go further along this line of discussion.

Han broke the tension by gesturing for yet another jug of b'rouli, and Luke returned to twisting his glass around. There'd been just too much to deal with recently and now no longer seemed the right time to bring their personal problems up. Han had enough to deal with in considering the possibility that his one-time friend had become something else entirely, probably through a route of suffering that didn't bear thinking about.

"We should get in touch with Judd, tell him what we've found out. At least then we'd all know who we're looking for," he suggested instead.

"D'you wanna do it tonight?"

"Yeah. I don't think we should waste any time."

"Judd said there's been a gap of a month between each attack."

Luke nodded. "That gives us just over 3 weeks – if he plays it that way this time."

"He'd better," Han said ominously. He downed the contents of his glass and automatically refilled it before looking across again at Luke. "It makes it worse y'know."

"What does?"

"That he's goin' after you."

Startled, Luke stumbled over his next words. "Han... I..."

"Can take care of yourself, I know," Han finished for him. "But that's me ain't it? Overprotective and annoying as ever."

"I didn't mean that at all. It wasn't what I was going to say," Luke protested. "But others will be targeted first. We don't know who they'll be."

"Yeah, I know that. And I know your face is up there in Judd's office with a number ten across it. But that's okay, 'cause you're a few down the line," Han snapped.

"I didn't say it was okay – you misunderstood what I meant."

"So is it okay if I worry about you then? Or is that too much? Wouldn't wanna overstep the mark."

"Look, I'm sorry. I don't want another one of these arguments. And it means a lot that you worry – even if you don't believe that."

Han shrugged dismissively, then abruptly changed the subject. "Okay – let's go contact Judd."

Luke sighed inwardly, but recalled his earlier determination to avoid such conversations. "How are we gonna work it?"

"We'll have to do a bounce from the _Falcon_ ," Han said. "We're not gonna find a HoloNet station here."

They paid, and left the tavern. Luke felt totally at odds with himself and the world. The warmth the b'rouli had given him had completely disappeared, leaving only a feeling of isolation and a dull headache. It seemed he couldn't say or do the right things these days. Every word or action was misinterpreted. He also found it difficult to read some of Han's reactions – it was as though they were always talking at cross-purposes. He was grateful for the cold of the night air and the walk to the _Falcon_. At least it might clear his head and cool Han's temper down a bit.

Fiore was too distant for it to fall into the subspace bandwidth that Ghandrellia occupied. From the _Falcon_ , Han would have to send a message to bounce through several systems before finally arriving with Judd on Fiore. It was a long process, and at risk from interception.

At the _Falcon_ 's comm-console, Han tapped in a series of commands.

"Can you encrypt it?"

"At a pretty basic level," Han replied. "We'll have to hope it's enough."

"What're we gonna do – arrange to meet Judd on Fiore?" Luke asked, watching Han as he keyed in the message.

Han looked up at him. "'S'a waste of time going back there. Judd can fill us in."

"What then?"

"Jarodine."

Luke nodded slowly. Jarodine was another step in the process of Han trying to put the past to rights. Marika Bronn had been a prisoner there, and died 5 years later at the hands of a person they now believed could be Jak Zembeki. As Jarodine was Marika's last known whereabouts before she died, it made sense to pay the place a visit.

The message would take a couple of hours to reach Fiore, and it would be at least another two before they could expect a reply.

"I think we should get some rest – it's been a long, mixed-up day," Luke suggested.


	12. Chapter 12

A long, mixed-up day just about summed it up for Han, and not just over the Druso business. At the guesthouse, he flung off his boots and jacket, ditched his blaster belt and sat down heavily on one of the beds.

He felt wearier than ever, but in ways that went beyond physical tiredness. A feeling of disillusionment had spread through him, impossible to shake off, and equally impossible to disguise. As Luke's troubled gaze swept over him, he knew Luke had seen it, and he reacted in a way Han would once have taken for granted. It took just a moment for Luke to reach him, his hand coming down instinctively on Han's shoulder.

The gesture should've been straightforward enough. An uncomplicated demonstration of understanding and support. But it seemed they'd gone beyond that simplicity into a territory of misunderstanding and doubt. The flash of reaction in Luke's eyes was enough to prove that, even though Han wasn't at all sure just what he'd seen.

Because for Han, it'd felt like months since Luke had touched him, even though it was merely days. The gesture had been unexpected, but the flood of feeling the contact produced was nothing new and made Han flinch with the suddenness of it. And Luke answered by abruptly pulling his hand away. As a symbol of rejection, it was unmistakable. And it was just too much. All the regrets, uncertainties and unanswered need Han had been harboring since Maronia flared up and brought him angrily to his feet.

"So it's like that is it?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." Shades of emotion had clouded Luke's face, but the hurt Han saw there seemed out of place.

"Don't give me that," Han retorted. "You know what it's about as well as I do. It ain't about feeling sorry for me though is it? You wanna keep me away from you."

"Han, I–"

But Han, having begun to vent all the frustrations he'd been bottling up, was unprepared to listen to apologies and excuses, and he brusquely cut across Luke's attempt at explanation. 

"I slip up, so you're gonna punish me for it? I think I've done pretty well so far, but maybe it ain't good enough for you."

Confusion now replaced the hurt in Luke's eyes. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Some of us can't just decide _not_ to feel somethin'. We don't all have special powers to shut that off."

"I know that, but I still don't follow what you're saying."

"You never think about it do you?"

"About what?"

"Maronia."

"Never think about it?" Luke shot back, sudden anger blazing a trail of color across his cheeks. "You haven't got a clue. D'you think it's easy for me then? That I just summon the Force and everything hurtful or difficult just goes away?"

"Well I'm sorry I made things difficult for you," Han snarled, "but I didn't plan it that way."

"Oh, I worked that out. But you're wrong – I do think about Maronia. I think about it a lot. And I can't choose how _I_ feel either, even though I'm supposed to be able to. I just give a good impression of it."

"Yeah, whatever. S'just that to you it seems like it never happened, but you still pull away from me like I'm a pariah."

"Aren't you getting things the wrong way round? It was _you_ who didn't like me touching you. Yes, it was a mistake and I shouldn't have done it, but I can't make any sense of your accusations. After all, wasn't that what you wanted? To forget about it?"

"Seems you've managed it then."

"I'm trying to do what you asked. I know these things just happen sometimes, but I assumed we were good enough friends to deal with it."

"They don't _just happen_ ," Han said derisively. "What did you think I was after that day then? Some quick fix to keep me going?"

Luke shook his head, exasperation battling with bewilderment in his voice. "No – of course I didn't think that. But it _was_ something that happened on the spur of the moment. I understand that."

"No, you don't understand – you just think you do," Han growled. "For your information, it didn't just happen on the _spur of the moment_."

"So... what are you saying?"

"You know what I'm goddamn saying. It's why you pulled away from me. Why you never talk about what happened. 'Cause you know how I feel but you'd rather pretend you don't. I s'ppose you're worried I'll mess things up with Mersinn."

" _Mersinn?_ " Luke repeated. He looked genuinely startled. "She's got nothing to do with any of this."

"Something's goin' on between you 'n her," Han insisted.

"Nothing's going on."

"If that's what you say."

"I'm saying it 'cause it's true. Mersinn's a friend, but that's as far as it goes. And as far as I want it to go."

"She's in love with you," Han argued.

Luke hesitated. "I think it's just that I was there when she needed someone. But I'm not the right person for her. I don't feel that way about her. You can't just make that happen."

"D'you think I don't know that?"

Luke rubbed a hand across his face, his expression more bemused than ever. Finally, he looked back at Han. "You said just now that I know how you feel. Well obviously I don't. I hoped we'd be able to carry on just like before, and the way I felt wouldn't spoil things. Seems like it is though."

"Ain't that down to you?" Han asked. "And anyway, I thought you were s'pposed to be able to tell how people feel."

The flush of anger returned to Luke's face in an instant. "You know me better than that! I don't pry into people's minds."

"Good job you've not looked into mine then 'cause you sure as hell wouldn't like what you saw."

"Then why bother to think about me at all?"

"Like it's that easy."

"Why not? Just shut me out of your thoughts if it'd make you happier."

"Oh yeah, right. Why didn't I think of that? As long as I remember to do it the moment I wake up, and then every goddamn minute of every goddamn day I should be fine."

There was a protracted, tense silence. When Luke spoke, his voice was level, but the undercurrent of hurt caused by Han's words was unmistakable. 

"Maybe you could explain just what it is I've done that's so bad."

Han gave a small, resigned shake of his head. Luke's words had touched a raw nerve inside him, and the anger that had blazed openly suddenly drained away, leaving a feeling of emptiness and exhaustion in its place.

"Nothing. You've done nothing. It's just me," he said.

"I need to know, Han."

"Gods – do I have to spell it out for you so you can tell me how sorry you are?"

"I think you better had. That way we'll both know where we stand won't we?"

Han was silent, moodily studying the floor. Earlier on, if anybody had said to him that the day was going to get worse, he'd have laughed at them and told them it wasn't possible. He'd just proved himself wrong. Now one of the few things with real meaning in his life was disappearing – his friendship with Luke. And it was his own fault, because he'd pushed Luke into believing he was responsible for the whole damn mess. But there was no going back now – too much had been said. He looked up at Luke, trying to read what lay behind that shadowed gaze. As always, it was impossible to be certain.

"Ah, what the hell." Han grimaced and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry – I've screwed everything up. I just wanna be with you, and all you wanna do is push me away." He shrugged slightly. "I didn't plan on being in love with you just to be a pain in the ass. 'S just how it is."

Luke stilled completely, his only movement being to close his eyes for several long moments.

Han began to ramble, to cover his own discomfort and the obviousness of Luke's silence. "Just never seemed the right time to tell you. Things were gettin' worse, so in the end, I did something about it. I know I picked a lousy time to do it, but that's me ain't it? I thought you'd worked it out, but I guess I was wrong. I know you don't feel the same, 'n I know you'd rather it hadn't happened, so–"

Luke cut in abruptly. "Han. Just... shut up a minute."

Han stopped talking instantly and recommenced his in-depth scrutiny of the floor.

"All this time, you thought I was pushing you away? You thought I didn't want you?" Luke's voice was full of an amazed disbelief, and some other emotion that Han couldn't define.

"Yeah – quick ain't I?"

Luke shook his head. "No. We're both as stupid as each other."

"How d'you work that one out?" Han muttered, his eyes still firmly fixed on the floor.

Luke moved towards him, slid his hand up Han's arm. Han felt himself tense beneath the touch.

"Of course I wanted you," Luke said softly. "I love you! I've loved you for years."

It took Han several seconds to find his voice. "You can't."

"It's not your decision to make."

Luke's fingers tightened on Han's arm, and finally Han looked up to meet Luke's eyes, his own disillusionment and fatigue now gone, replaced by a new perception that left him slightly bewildered.

He gave a short, shaky laugh that had more to do with sudden nervousness than anything else. "Well, I got it wrong then."

"You could say that." Luke gave him a long, slow smile full of a dawning gladness, then shook his head, a gesture that acknowledged the ridiculousness of the whole thing. "I couldn't work out why everything I said backfired, because I thought you were the one who regretted it. I tried to forget about it like you'd said. I thought, if I just back off, and make out it didn't matter to me, you'd be much happier."

"Yeah, it's been a laugh a minute."

"But the more I acted like I'd forgotten it, the more annoyed you got. I thought I was giving myself away all the time, winding you up because you thought I was still thinking about it. I was trying to prove that I wouldn't spoil things with the way I felt," Luke continued. "I wasn't trying to keep you away, but I didn't know what to do anymore. I didn't want to touch you, in case I gave you the wrong idea. I got worried about the things I was saying, and even when I was careful everything still seemed to come out wrong."

"How's any normal person s'pposed to have figured out how you felt?" Han complained. He was starting to struggle with the conversation. Luke was very close to him, and the clean, soapy scent of his skin was doing something to Han's head. He breathed in deeply, but that only made things worse. And Luke's hand on his arm was firing up nerve-endings that were sending definite signals to the rest of his body. He wondered how much more of this protracted explaining Luke intended to do.

"I thought you'd realized on Maronia. I thought that was why you wanted to forget about it – because you'd found out and didn't like it."

"Are you ever gonna stop analyzing it?" Han managed.

Luke smiled. "I might." He lifted his other hand up to Han's face, traced fingertips along his jaw. "I'm sorry I gave off the wrong signals. I just didn't know."

"So make up for it then."

"I'm going to." Luke reached up to brush his lips against Han's. It was barely a kiss, more of a suggestion than anything else. Han gave a low groan of frustration when Luke pulled away.

"I hope you're plannin' on doing more than that."

"Oh yes," Luke murmured, both his hands now sliding round the back of Han's head, "I'm planning on doing a lot more than that."

And in the fingers that twisted into his hair, Han felt again that hidden, compelling strength. Before, he'd never fully examined his fascination with it, but now he understood, as his body responded with a surge of hunger that made him shiver. And he realized too, as Luke moved against him, how hard he'd fallen. It was Han's last moment of coherent thought before Luke pulled him up close, crushing their mouths together.


	13. Chapter 13

When Han woke up, he was sprawled across Luke's legs. His head was resting heavily on Luke's middle where he'd fallen asleep some time last night. The sheet had assumed a life of its own and wrapped itself securely round his head, leaving him cocooned with Luke's bodily warmth. Pale light filtered through the sheet, suggesting it was past dawn.

Luke had unintentionally woken him up, with his careful attempts to move his trapped legs from beneath Han. After giving up, Luke had tried to stretch out for something by the side of the bed. He was probably looking for his chrono. Han had thrown it down carelessly on the floor last night, along with everything else Luke had been wearing.

He guessed he had just moments before Luke realized he was awake. It turned out he had even less time than that, as barely a second later Luke moved a hand down, sliding his fingers into Han's hair.

"Hey," Luke murmured, not sleepily enough for Han's liking.

Han stayed stubbornly silent, because although he _was_ half awake it was more like a quarter, and a very bleary quarter at that. And he didn't intend moving yet. He knew Luke would insist they got up – a very bad idea in Han's view. For one thing, his limbs seemed to have fossilized overnight, and for another, having Luke trying to move around underneath him was just too pleasurable to curtail. Not to mention the fact that it was very nice lying there remembering every detail from last night.

To say that he'd never wondered about sex with Luke would be pretty far from the truth. In the early days of knowing Luke, he'd thought about it in a vague and hazy way, keeping Luke's imaginary partners as nameless, faceless strangers. A bit later on, when Han had started making appearances himself in these imaginings, he'd put it down to curiosity. The fact that he'd thought about it most when he and Luke worked-out together, or when he bumped into Luke returning from one of his ridiculously long runs, didn't really register. It shouldn't have been difficult to work out why a partly-clothed, sweating and breathless Luke might make him think about sex, but Han hadn't quite got there. Where that placed him in the genius ratings, he didn't want to know.

Later still, when his thoughts had become more detailed and lot more regular, he knew full well what it was all about. But it turned out he had everything wrong. Because the Luke of his imagination was quiet, a bit hesitant, and very much in control. The reality was totally different. In fact, the real-life Luke was a goddamn revelation. For one thing, he wasn't at all quiet. And the only hesitation Luke had shown was in deciding whether to unfasten Han's shirt or just yank it over Han's head instead. And there was a heck of a difference between struggling for control and being in control.

Last night they'd both acknowledged, during that first kiss, that neither of them wanted caution. But Han had also known, instinctively, to let things go in whatever direction Luke took them. He'd wanted Luke, but it'd been Luke who'd needed to broach the emotional distance he'd spent the past year constructing. When Han had thrust his tongue into Luke's mouth, he'd recognized a matching desire to mend the rift between them by being as close as it was possible for two people to be. Living life the way they did left no room for half-measures anyway. There hadn't seemed much point in changing that, despite the altered circumstances. Luke's hands had searched him out with an equal hunger, and the kisses that he'd marked Han's body with had been as possessive as the ones Han had returned. 

Han, who'd sometimes been accused of talking too much, had found himself unable to say much that was genuinely intelligible. There hadn't been much need for it, but he remembered clearly the few coherent things he'd managed to utter.

 _Slowly_ , he'd rasped, as Luke had crawled on top of him. Han hadn't wanted it to end, but they'd been heading there far too quickly. And Luke had pulled away, giving him a long, drawn out look that had promised Han anything he wanted. When Luke had slid his lips down Han's body, and trailed a hand across Han's thigh, Han had groaned out sounds that might've borne some resemblance to speech if he'd been capable of thinking about it.

And some time later, when Luke had moved between Han's knees, and Han's insides had clenched with anticipation, he'd found some words out of sheer necessity. _Come on_.

But then he'd lost all ability to talk because he'd found himself completely immersed in everything that was Luke. It hadn't been just his body that Luke had possessed, but his overloaded senses too. All he'd seen was Luke, above him and inside him, disheveled and flushed, strands of hair sticking to his forehead and a sheen of sweat on his skin. He'd smelt of soap and sex and the oddly-scented lotion that he'd produced from somewhere and then clumsily spilt all over the bed. When Luke had fastened his mouth to Han's, the trickles of perspiration that ran from his forehead to meet Han's lips had tasted salty and sweet at the same time.

There'd been a kind of raw insistence to Luke's need, as though he'd been fighting to break down those layers of protection he'd built around himself. It'd been impossible to counter the vehemence of it all, and Han hadn't wanted to anyway. Luke's breathless torrent of disjointed entreaties had flowed over him, tearing sounds from Han's own throat that he couldn't have stopped if he'd tried. He remembered how the harsh gasp he'd made as Luke pushed into him had merged with Luke's low, ragged groan.

All the tension and misunderstandings of the evening had made every touch more meaningful, and heightened every sensation. Luke's skin had felt burning hot, both smooth and rough, with the hard, defined edge of muscle beneath. The pressure of Luke's mouth on his and the abrasive rasp of stubble had made Han's lips sore from all the fierce kisses. And inside him, sharp stabs of pain and pleasure had forced his hips to twist and his fingers to clench. Han had tangled one hand in Luke's hair, and clutched at the sheet beneath him with the other.

But Luke hadn't let it end it there, and he'd pulled away again, dragging Han back from the brink of a headlong fall. Han had taken a deep, unsteady breath and loosened his grip on the twisted sheet. He'd stared at Luke for a long moment, watching him struggle for control, and noting how his erratic breathing gradually slowed and his frown of concentration eased. It was a side of Luke he'd never seen before, and he doubted he'd ever have enough of it. And Luke had never looked more beautiful to him.

Luke had brushed his fingers down Han's chest and stroked his palms down the sides of Han's hips. Then he'd touched Han everywhere he could reach, his eyes full of wanting. Han had given a small breathy moan when the lingering caresses turned demanding, and Luke had started to move again. Inside him, rocking against him slowly, Luke had eroded, little by little, the tenuous hold that Han had regained over his own body.

He'd taken Han right to the edge again. Kept him there, until Han couldn't help himself and had groaned out for more. And just before Luke had answered those demands, Han had caught in Luke's intense gaze an understanding that with this, they'd begun to heal the pain of the past year.

Right near the end, Han had felt Luke's right hand gripping his hip, the fingers digging in deep, bruising his flesh. An indication that Luke had totally abandoned himself to their shared passion, his troubled inhibitions over that hand completely forgotten. The knowledge had hit Han just before the explosion of pleasure had ripped through him, arching his spine and pushing his hips up hard against Luke.

Dimly, he'd heard Luke's choked cry – _Oh Han_ – and felt Luke's control fall apart and shatter. Luke's breathing had turned to short, shallow gasps, and he'd found Han's mouth again with his own. Han recalled a moment of total stillness before Luke's body had tensed hard, and he'd groaned a single incomprehensible word into Han's mouth.

Afterwards they'd just lain there, wrapped around each other, for a long while, not speaking. And then Han had slid a hand across Luke's jaw, and they'd kissed. Slow and deep and long. Then Luke had slipped from the bed, returning after a few moments to clean them up cursorily. Han had grinned at him, and Luke had grinned back – men were so damned messy. They'd stayed awake talking for hours, keeping away from serious conversation by tacit agreement. Eventually, they'd drifted into sleep through sheer exhaustion.

With all that considered, Han felt it was hardly surprising he was reluctant to move this morning. But he also knew he couldn't fool Luke for much longer with his continued pretence at sleep.

As if in answer to that very thought, Luke's hand tugged lightly, but determinedly, on Han's hair for the second time.

"Han."

Han volunteered a low grunt just to be cooperative, but movement was still too much to expect.

"It's morning," Luke persisted.

"So?"

"We have to get up."

"Why?"

"So we can find out if Judd's got back to us. And I can't feel my legs."

Han finally shifted a little, but instead of moving off Luke he slid a hand further under Luke's body to pull him closer. His lips skimmed the surface of Luke's skin, just below the jut of ribs.

"You taste good in the morning." Han continued the passage of his lips, upwards and over Luke's ribs. Funny how he suddenly felt energized again. Must be all that thinking.

"Han..."

"Tasted good last night too."

"I'm surprised you remember anything of last night after all that b'rouli."

"Oh, I remember everythin'," Han said meaningfully. "Feels like I've gone ten rounds with a bantha though."

"Sorry."

Han slid quickly up the bed, fighting his way out of the sheet. "No you're not."

Luke laughed softly. "You're right, I'm not."

"I knew it," Han said, altering his position again and pinioning Luke beneath him. He cleared strands of hair away from Luke's face. Kissed the newly-revealed skin. "Didn't you say something about gettin' up?"

"It's a bit difficult with you on top of me."

"So are you gonna ask me to move?"

"No."

Luke had somehow managed to free one arm, and Han felt the light graze of fingertips down his spine. Little shivers of anticipation turned his throat dry. "D'ya reckon this is appropriate behavior for a Jedi?"

Luke grinned up at him. "I'm pretty sure it isn't. But seeing as I'm the only one around right now, I can set my own rules."

"Right. You have 'em all planned out before then?"

"I'm making them up as I go along."

***

Light-years from Ghandrellia, the man tapped in a few more commands on the communications console before him, then smiled with grim satisfaction. He leaned back in his chair and stretched stiff limbs, glancing at his chrono as he did so. It was close to dawn. He'd been at the console for hours, but the wait had been worth it. Once he'd discovered that the COBISS commander had returned to Fiore, he'd begun to monitor the useful little intercept he'd installed in the communications center in Swelvarne's military base.

He'd anticipated some form of contact between Page and Solo. Of course, communication could have been via the HoloNet, in which case he'd have been powerless to intercept it, but he'd bargained on Solo being loose in the galaxy somewhere, steering clear of interfering military bases. His instincts had been right. And catching a subspace bounce was child's play. He'd almost laughed when he'd seen the level of encryption. He'd have thought the Galactic Alliance might have afforded one of their esteemed war heroes a better level of security. Not that it would've made much difference anyway. He hadn't yet come across a code he'd failed to crack.

Solo's message had been brief but informative, despite the Corellian's attempt to disguise it. He'd known that Solo would put some of the pieces together eventually. He just hadn't expected it to be quite so soon. And Solo had been far too indiscreet for someone who called himself a Galactic Alliance General – he'd used the word 'we'. It could've meant the Wookiee of course, but the man was certain it referred to Skywalker. And they were heading for the very place where all this would end.

He glanced again at the screen. His console was methodically tracing the bounce. It was taking a while as Solo, in a misguided attempt at avoiding interception, had set it to go half-way round the galaxy before it reached Fiore. A small beep indicated the computer's success, and the man leaned forward to study the data.

It'd come from Ghandrellia. Just as he'd anticipated. He tapped in a rapid set of commands which would ensure that any reply sent from the Fioran base would never make it past his intercept. Then he asked the computer to calculate just how long it'd take Solo and Skywalker to fly from Ghandrellia to their next stop.

Jarodine. It'd be their final destination, but he'd make sure it was an interesting one.

***

"What d'you think? Should we wait?" Luke asked, checking the Falcon's comm-console for the tenth time. There was still no reply from Judder Page.

"I think we should go. We could be sittin' here hours waiting for him to get back to us, if he even got our message. He might not even be on Fiore anymore."

"If he's sent us anything, it'll get to us eventually," Luke added.

"Jarodine then?"

Luke nodded. "How long will it take us to get there?"

Han shrugged. "Not sure 'til I do the calculations. Maybe 22 hours or so."

"What if something's happened to Judd...?"

"Well, if he's left Fiore, there won't be much point in us trailing over there. And the Jarodine garrison has a HoloNet transceiver."

"Yeah, you're right. As soon as we get there, if we've not heard anything else, we can try that. We can at least get Madine."

Han moved away from the console and yawned. "22 hours... Maybe I can catch up on some sleep."

"But you won't want to sleep for the whole flight."

"Oh yeah?" Han said. "Well if _you're_ lookin' for alternative things to do, the deflector shield generator needs overhauling. Should keep you busy for a few hours. If you've got the energy for it that is."

"I think I'll leave that for another trip. So it looks like I need to think of something else to pass the time." And Luke threw him a grin that made Han's stomach flip over. "And don't worry about my energy levels. They're very high."


	14. Chapter 14

### Jarodine

Jarodine was a world with four distinct environments. The Taramine quadrant, named after the world's capital, had a benign climate and was tranquil and civilized, even though it had suffered years of Imperial occupation. Most of the population had lived their lives undisturbed during that time, unless they'd voiced disapproval of their new governors.

Those that had, ended up in the Peshtin quadrant. There, an oppressive humidity turned the slightest movement into laborious effort. Swampland was interspersed with impenetrable jungle. The swamps were home to various predators and venomous insects that collected in swarms as dusk fell. They'd also once housed a large population of displaced species from across the galaxy. The Empire had set up the prison camps of Jarodine to clear the swamps ready for the building of a quellunium production center.

It had been an impossible task. No amount of drainage had salvaged any land that stayed dry for long. Many prisoners had succumbed to heat and disease. But the futility of the clearance project had also worked to the advantage of the Empire. It meant there'd been an endless supply of work to occupy the prisoners, and the high death-rate meant the camps had never become too full. For those that died, there'd always been replacements.

The few guards had watched over the prisoners from inside climate-controlled cabins, but there'd been no true authority in the swamps. The prisoners had lived and worked by their own rules, many turning as feral as the landscape. When the Alliance had freed Jarodine, it found no Imperial presence in the swamps. The Empire had simply abandoned its prisoners to their fate.

Now, two years later, nature had reclaimed the hard-won clearings and swallowed up the flimsy structures that had housed the prisoners.

The _Falcon's_ destination was the main spaceport at Taramine, on the opposite side of the world from the swamps. Han brought her down on a bright, still evening. The contrast to Ghandine was striking. The sun was still high enough in the sky to give radiance to the clean-cut lines of the port's landing bays, enhancing the overall impression of affluence.

Luke wandered into the cockpit, looking tousled, sleepy, and not very alert.

Han studied him for a moment, revising for the hundredth time his opinion over when Luke looked his best. Right now, he looked good enough to eat, if Han had any remaining energy for it. Which he didn't.

Luke had managed to fall soundly asleep earlier, after he'd spent a very long time demonstrating to Han just how deep his reserves of energy ran. Afterwards, Han hadn't been able to stop gazing at Luke as he slept, instinctively knowing that uninterrupted sleep was probably a rarity for Luke these days.

In between that, and his intermittent checks on the _Falcon_ 's course, Han hadn't got much real sleep at all.

Luke, with no obvious sympathy for Han's drained state, was looking through the cockpit windows, taking in the scene before them. He turned to grin at Han. "Very smart. Must make _you_ feel out of place."

"That's rich, coming from some backwoods farmboy," Han retorted. " 'specially one found hangin' round the fleapits of Mos Eisley."

"Hmm, you've got a point there. That place was full of undesirable types. You didn't know who you were gonna bump into."

"Lucky you met up with me then," Han said smugly.

"Fortunately Ben warned me what to expect. Might've been a bit of a shock otherwise."

"Yeah, well I reckon he'd have done better warning _me_. Like about what might happen if I ever got together with an insatiable Jedi."

"Like what?"

"Like death from exhaustion."

Luke moved up behind the pilot's seat, and slid his arms round Han, brushing his lips against the side of his neck. "Not that you ever exaggerate."

"Not my style," Han said, twisting his head round to locate Luke's mouth with his own.

 

They headed for the speederpark. The port was busy without being chaotic, and there were few black-market dealers. Maybe the Imperial occupation had frightened them all away, and they'd not yet begun to drift back in any numbers. Whatever the reason, death threats and the entanglements of the past seemed incongruous here, and in any case, so much had changed since yesterday.

They walked closely side by side, disliking even the small space between them. If he'd had trouble keeping Luke out of his thoughts before, it now felt like a full-time occupation to Han. When he tried to concentrate on how they might track down what had happened to Marika Bronn, thoughts of Luke kept intruding. The way Luke had touched him. And how Luke had kissed every place possible to kiss. And the feel of Luke's skin beneath Han's palms...

A restraining hand on his arm stopped his thoughts in their tracks. "Hey – will you watch where you're going?"

Han glanced down at the steps he'd nearly fallen down. "Stupid place to put a tunnel," he grumbled.

"This is the main speederpark. That's the way down to the private bays, but we don't want those. Anyway, it's usually better to _walk_ down steps."

"I was distracted."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Shall we go find a pilot, or is there somewhere else you'd like to fall down first?"

 

"It's a good couple of hours," the pilot informed them, joining the air traffic along a wide speederway that went in the direction of the military base.

Han grimaced. He was keyed-up for following traces of Marika Bronn, and hated the idea of further delay. "D'you reckon we could go to the medcenter first?" he suggested to Luke.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. We can contact the base from there – let them know we're here." Jarodine had joined the Galactic Alliance after the Battle of Taramine. Not explaining their visit here might give rise to bad feeling.

Han nodded his agreement and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

 

The Taramine Medcenter was a large, elaborate structure that backed onto dense woodland. A reception droid escorted them to the offices of Doctor Linu Vilafii, the chief administrator. The place was a confusing warren of corridors, all looking very much the same.

The administrator met them at the door. She looked to be part Theelin, with a scattering of pale blue patches across her cheekbones and at her throat.

"Master Skywalker?" She smiled at Luke, and then turned to Han. "And you must be General Solo?"

"Yeah – wherever he goes, I go. Sometimes I even get to carry his cloak."

Luke returned the doctor's smile. "Don't take any notice of him. And really, I don't use that title. I'd prefer just Skywalker – or Luke."

She led them into her heavily-cluttered office. "Drink?" she offered, holding up a jug of pale green liquid.

They both nodded, so she set about pouring them each a glass. "Find a seat if you can. What can I help you with?"

"We're hoping you might be able to give us some information on a previous patient."

The doctor frowned. "I don't know. We can't give personal details out without a very good reason." She handed them their drinks and pulled up a chair.

"This person's dead," Han explained.

"And we don't know if she was even here. It's just a possibility. There are some security repercussions, which is why we're investigating it this way, rather than putting in an official request," Luke added.

"And we all know what a pain in the ass those are," Han muttered darkly.

Vilafii dipped her head with some amusement, acknowledging Han's point. "If you give me the name, General, I'll see what the files contain. Then we can go from there."

"Captain. And if he's allowed to be Luke, do I get to be Han?"

The doctor looked perplexed, unsure as to whether Han was joking or not.

"He's Captain unless he's leading an assignment for the Alliance, or they decide they want to show him off somewhere – in which case he's General," Luke explained. "But he likes staying independent, which is why he's not a real general. And he doesn't like titles either."

She still looked confused, so Luke elaborated. "He's just awkward."

"Right," she replied uncertainly. "Do you have that name for me then?"

"She'd been calling herself Isala Du'Rhush."

The doctor's glass clattered from her hand, its contents spilling across the floor. " _Isala_? Of course I know her. Everybody who works here knows her. But you said... Isala's _dead_?"

Luke and Han looked at each other with grim surprise.

"I'm sorry – but yes, she is," Luke confirmed. "Did you know her well?"

"I... yes, I knew her well. How... how did she die?"

"She was murdered."

"But...." Vilafii tailed off and she closed her eyes for a moment. "That's so awful," she whispered. "After everything she went through."

"I knew her too, when she was a lot younger," Han said. "Her father was a friend of mine. He was killed by the Empire."

"I know," Vilafii said, her voice shaking with emotion. "Isala told me. That's one of the reasons she hated the Empire so much. Why she got involved."

"You knew she was arrested at the Danril Uprising?" Luke asked.

"Yes – that's what got her sent to the swamps. But she was so strong. All they'd done to her just made her more determined." She glanced between Luke and Han. "I presume you know what they were doing to the prisoners in the Peshtin Quadrant?"

"Making them drain the swamps, wasn't it?" Han asked.

"I mean the tests."

"What tests?"

"You knew the Imperials were going to build a quellunium center in the swamps?"

They both nodded, so she continued. "The swamps are very dangerous – many of the plants and insects are poisonous. The Governor wanted to be sure his workers would be safe there when the factory was finished. So they built a unit at Peshtin to research the poisons and create antidotes. They tested everything on the prisoners."

Both Han and Luke knew of the Imperial complex at Peshtin. During the campaign to free Jarodine, the Alliance had raided the place. But when they'd broken in it'd already been evacuated. No traces of any equipment or materials were found.

"And Isala was one of those they took for these tests?" Luke asked.

Vilafii nodded. "She was given a dose of the crylbacter poison and sent back to the swamps. But the Imperials didn't know that particular toxin could mutate into something else. The antidote did its work for a while, but the poison had already begun its mutation. Luckily, we got to her in time."

"You cured her?"

"Not us exactly. At Peshtin, the Empire had a lot of scientists doing research into the poisons. I suppose there'd been more to it all than just ensuring its team could work safely in the swamps. The Empire wouldn't have wasted a good opportunity to utilize some very nasty compounds for other reasons."

Han gave a short, humorless laugh. "That's more like the real reason. I can't imagine the Imps were that bothered about their own workers."

Vilafii gave a brief nod of agreement. "Some of these scientists were Imperial staff, but others were prisoners themselves," she continued. "Just before the liberation, one of the imprisoned scientists was sent to the swamps to work on a specific project. When the Imperials abandoned the camps, they just left him. I suppose they forgot about him, and he _was_ just another prisoner, after all. But he was brilliant. There didn't seem to be anything he didn't know about the swamp plants. He recognized Isala's illness straight away, and understood how to neutralize the poison."

"So she recovered?"

"Completely. During her time here we became friends." She shook her head sadly. "I can't believe she's dead. When did this happen?"

"About three months ago," Luke said.

"Life is so busy all the time – I didn't think anything of not hearing from her for a while."

"When she was recovering here, did she tell you much about her past?" Luke asked.

"A little. As I said before, I knew about her father and her hatred of the Empire. She'd dedicated her life to anti-Imperial causes. I know she'd moved around continuously before her arrest, taking on new identities to do specific jobs."

"Did she ever mention her Uncle, Shil?" Han asked tentatively.

"Oh yes. He was proud of what she did."

"D'you know if he's still alive?"

"Of course. He was here in Taramine earlier this year."

Han looked startled. "Shil? Here?"

"Yes – he's one of our main benefactors. After Isala recovered, he sponsored the new wing into toxin research. That's what I meant when I said everybody knew Isala. The wing is called the Isala Du'Rhush Research Unit."

Han and Luke looked at each other, astounded. How come they hadn't known about this? After all, Jarodine was an affiliated world. But then Judder had been investigating Marika Bronn – he'd not known her adopted name.

"Shil must be devastated," Vilafii noted.

There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Luke answered.

"He probably doesn't know."

He went on to explain. "There've been a few deaths – all linked. Coruscant Security only knew Isala by her real name. It was only because Han knew Marika's adopted name that we've got this far. We didn't even know Shil Du'Rhush was alive. Can you give us contact details for him?"

"I'll sort them out for you. Will you get whoever did this to Isala?"

"We've a good idea of who we're looking for," Han said.

"I hope you find them then."

"Can we go back a bit, to Isala's treatment here?" Luke asked. "The scientist who developed the antitoxin – you said he'd been a prisoner?"

"Yes. He hated the Empire as much as we did. I think he'd been through hell. He wanted to help us."

"What was he called?"

"When I met him, he'd decided to call himself Jerik Haludin. I think he'd been known by the name Zembeki when he was a prisoner."

Han stood up quickly, almost sending the table flying.

Startled, Dr Vilafii stood too. "What is it?"

"That's a Corellian name," Han said tightly.

"He _is_ Corellian, but Corellia didn't have happy memories for him. He never talks about it."

" _Talks_. You're still in touch with him?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, I'm not being very clear about things. He works here, in the Research Wing."

" _What?_ "

Disturbed by Han's tone, Vilafii answered quickly. "Yes, why – what's the problem?"

Luke cut in. "There may not be a problem. We'd just like to talk to him."

"But... surely you're not thinking...? Jerik cared for Isala. He'll be extremely upset to find out she's dead."

"Maybe he already knows," Han muttered.

Luke shot him a quick warning glance, before turning back to Vilafii. "We're not thinking anything. All we're doing is trying to find out as much as we can about what happened to Isala."

"Jerik won't know anything. If he did, he'd have told me!"

"Does he know Isala's real name?"

Vilafii hesitated slightly. "Yes. It was one of the things he and Isala used to joke about – that they'd both changed their names so many times they couldn't remember who they were supposed to be now."

"D'you know any of Haludin's other names, besides Zembeki?" Luke asked.

Vilafii shook her head. "I've never asked. The past is painful to him. He wanted to make a fresh start. After what he'd been through, how could I have denied him that?"

"You took a risk – taking him on like that. He turns up out of the blue, having spent time in the Empire's research labs," Han put in.

"And the two of you? Didn't you ever take risks? Forgive me, but do your backgrounds check out perfectly? And it wasn't out of the blue – he came with the released prisoners from the swamps. Sometimes you just have to work on instinct," Vilafii argued.

"Perhaps he was counting on that."

"You don't know him. If you did you wouldn't be saying that."

Han gave a dry laugh. "Y'know, that's quite funny 'cause–"

"Let's just all calm down," Luke interrupted. The atmosphere had grown tense and Han's edginess was threatening to erupt into anger. "We're not accusing anyone of anything. Do you have a datafile for him?"

Vilafii rubbed a hand across her eyes wearily. "Yes, of course. Ordinarily I wouldn't let you see it. Not without an official request. But in the circumstances..." She shook her head slightly, moved over to her desk and activated a data console. "It's only a basic one – there are no background details."

"We'd be interested in a holo, if your files have those."

Vilafii nodded, and continued to tap in commands, but the slight frown between her brows had deepened. "This is strange," she muttered.

Han went to peer over Vilafii's shoulder. "What's the problem?"

"Jerik's entry's not here. I don't understand – I added it in myself."

"So it's been removed. How convenient."

Han was aware of Luke moving up behind him. Moments later, Luke sought Han's hand with his own, interlacing their fingers for just a few moments before letting go.

Han knew what Luke was implying with the gesture. Despite Han's aggression and outward show of suspicion, he knew that Luke understood how he was trying to maintain faith in his old friend. Luke was telling him to hold on to that.

But the stack of evidence against Jak was mounting up. Obviously, they had no proof that Jerik Haludin _was_ the Jak Zembeki Han had known. Nor were they certain that Jak Zembeki and Jerik Druso were the same person. They were all common names on Corellia, and if they did belong to the same person, it was a person who had some strong need to cling to at least a small part of his identity. Han wanted to be wrong, but somehow, all paths seemed to be leading them to Jak.

"Forget about the file for now," Luke suggested. "Can you take us over to the Research Wing? Will Haludin be there now?"

Vilafii looked up at him, and shook her head. "He's not here. He took a few days off. He has a place he goes to."

"Where?" Luke asked.

Vilafii's skin patches turned a deeper shade of blue with anxiety. "I don't know. He's a very private person. He's never told me, and I've never asked him."

"But it's on Jarodine?" Luke persisted.

"Oh, yes. He travels off-world a lot, but he prefers to spend most of his free time on Jarodine. Something to do with his research."

"Terrific," Han muttered.

"What if you needed to contact him urgently?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Vilafii exclaimed, relieved that she could at last come up with something positive. "Elina Breya – his research assistant. She'll know how to get hold of him. "

 

More winding, convoluted corridors took them through multiple sets of doors that hissed open automatically as they approached. Vilafii led the way, walking quickly in response to the undercurrent of urgency in the atmosphere. The doors to the bacta therapy suite loomed in front of them, beyond which was the Isala Du'Rhush Research Wing and the laboratories of Jerik Haludin and his assistant.

The bacta wing doors opened, emitting the familiar smell of the healing fluid. A human woman stood in the open doorway, partially blocking their way. Assuming she'd move aside, Han's surprise was matched by Vilafii's sudden exclamation as her shoulder caught the woman hard.

"Sorry!" Vilafii responded, turning to face the woman, a hand held out in apology.

But the woman stepped back, moving quickly. Too quickly. Then Han saw her pull something from her jacket. He shouted at the same time as Luke dived for the floor. A sudden burst of blaster fire, and then silence.

Anxiously, Han watched Luke slowly sit up. He was rubbing at his right elbow, which had taken the brunt of his fall. He gave Han a quick nod, implying he was okay.

Relieved, Han bent to examine the woman lying crumpled on the floor. Han's blaster, set on stun, had caught her fully in the chest. It would be a while before she'd come round.

Han let the medcenter security guards take control, and walked over to Luke. A fine white powder had settled on Luke's clothes from whatever it was the woman had thrown at him. This type of incident wasn't unusual. Luke had encountered those with grievances before – either against him or the Jedi in general. He'd also had things thrown at him before. Usually, Luke tried to talk to those responsible, but Han had reacted instinctively to remove the threat. Considering the circumstances, Han didn't think he could've done anything else.

Luke was rubbing absently at his eyes, and Han frowned at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I..." Luke rubbed again at his eyes. "Things've gone strange."

"Whaddya mean, _strange_?"

"I don't know. Kind of blurred. That stuff she threw at me ... I think it must've gone in my eyes."

Han stared at him for a second, and then spun round. "We need a medical droid!" he yelled. "Now!"

Luke shook his head, as though trying to clear his vision. "I can't see you any more. Everything's going black. It feels like... burning." He gave a sudden gasp and screwed his eyes tightly shut.

"Luke!" Han's hands gripped Luke's shoulders. "Luke – listen – you gotta open your eyes. You'll make it worse."

Luke sank slowly to his knees, and Han moved with him. But all Han's attempts to get through to him were failing. He was vaguely aware of the medcenter staff gathering round them, their voices urgent and their hands grasping.

"Come on Luke, speak to me!" he urged.

But it was a futile demand. He knew for certain Luke could no longer hear him.


	15. Chapter 15

Han had lost sight of Luke in the ensuing chaos. Not knowing what they were dealing with, the medcenter was taking no chances, and Han had been hustled into a decontamination room. His clothes and boots had been taken from him, and he'd been ordered under a shower. He'd raged long and hard about it, and insisted that he get to see Luke.

Vilafii had snapped at him in the end. "What use will you be to anyone if you end up like Luke? How will that help?"

And so there he stood, beneath the water, having turned up the heat and pressure to the highest he could stand. It hurt, but he wanted that because it helped to numb the other pain. The one in his guts that felt like the sharp, cold blade of a knife. He leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the cubicle, trying to calm the anger that was boiling up inside him.

The stinging pain in his hands distracted him. Frowning, he studied the livid red welts across his palms, like burns from an electro-whip. _The damn powder_. If it'd done this much damage just to his hands... He slammed his palms furiously against the tiles, welcoming the savage agony of it.

"Captain Solo." The FX-10 droid's mechanical tone cut through the red haze of anger.

"Yeah."

"You can turn off the water now." The droid handed Han a towel and a robe.

"What the hell's this? Where're my clothes?"

"Being cleaned, Captain. You can have them back in few minutes."

"I'd better," Han warned.

"You will, I'll make sure of that." The voice belonged to Vilafii.

Han shrugged into the robe and marched into the room. "What's goin' on? What're you doing with Luke?"

"We've done a preliminary analysis of the powder. Although we're not sure exactly what it is, it's not... pleasant."

"I've managed to work that out for myself," Han growled. "What's it done to him?"

"The compound contains a mineral acid that causes burns. But it's not that simple–"

Han interrupted, his temper barely under control. "You call burns simple?" He held his hands out. "I've seen what it does, so don't go tellin' me it's a simple thing to get it thrown in your eyes."

"General..." She corrected herself. "Captain–"

"Han," he said tersely.

Vilafii nodded. "Han. Please try not to worry–"

"Try not to _worry_?" Han shot back. "Some madwoman's thrown acid at him and now you're telling me not to worry?"

"We were right by the bacta wing. The droids were able to neutralize the acid almost immediately. It's done some harm, but nothing we can't put right with bacta."

"Yeah – bacta. The miracle cure-all. Dump someone in a tank and they'll be as good as new the next day," Han muttered.

"Bacta can only deal with physical injuries, of course," she said quietly. "But once you've healed part of a person, you can think about how best to cope with the rest." 

Vilafii's reply seemed to suggest she understood something of Han's bitterness, and it crossed Han's mind to wonder why. He dismissed the thought when the doctor reached for his hands, examining the palms closely. 

"The droid will sort these out for you and give you something for the pain."

"You think I care about that?"

" _You_ might not, but _I_ do. A few others at the scene have burns too. Yours look worse – probably because it took us so long to get you under the water. Or have you been rubbing at them?"

"Not exactly. You were telling me about Luke."

Vilafii nodded. "The powder isn't a simple formula. It wasn't intended just to cause physical injury. It contains a powerful narcotic, and that's what's caused the loss of consciousness."

"A knock-out drug? But it's gonna wear off?"

"We hope so, yes."

"You _hope_ so?"

"Like I said before," Vilafii explained, "we're not completely sure what it is. We need to do more tests."

"I don't care about your goddamn tests – I just wanna know if he's gonna be okay!"

Vilafii hesitated a moment. "Look, the FX-10 needs to check you over, just to see if you're clear."

"I'm fine. I don't want checking over. I need to see Luke."

"We can't let you out of here till you've been looked at. You're not showing any symptoms of inhalation, but we need to be sure of that."

Han took a couple of deep breaths to calm his agitation. He knew from experience that shouting at doctors never got you anywhere. "Tell it to get on with it then. I don't wanna waste any more time."

Vilafii indicated silently to the droid to carry on as Han sat down, with reluctance, on the couch. The droid ran a sensor probe slowly over his body, then started applying bacta strips to Han's hands.

"How long've I gotta have these on for?" he objected. "They're just gonna get in the way."

"Only for a few hours," the droid replied. "But the more you aggravate the injuries, the longer they'll take to heal."

Vilafii intervened quickly, before Han's retort made it past his lips. "By tomorrow, we should be able to replace the strips with something less cumbersome."

The droid had moved round to Han's left side. "I can treat those bruises for you," it said.

"You can leave 'em alone," he snapped, re-covering his hip protectively.

He caught Vilafii's glance and shifted impatiently on the couch. "You still haven't told me he's gonna be okay."

The mottled blue areas of Vilafii's skin darkened. Han thought, incongruously, that it was a difficult characteristic for a doctor to have. She was trying to be detached, but her emotions were clearly displayed in the changing hues of skin. "We don't know what we're dealing with," she said. "The drugs could cause other problems that we haven't seen yet."

"You're sayin' he might get worse?"

"We're doing everything we can to prevent that. But the effects do seem to be deepening."

Han leapt to his feet, all pretence at calm forgotten. "Then you're not doing enough!" he yelled. "There must be somebody who..." He stopped, confounded. Ridiculous that he hadn't thought of it sooner. "What about _her_? The woman who threw the stuff? She must've come round by now. Where is she? I'll make her tell me what the stuff is."

He stopped, thrown by the look of distress on the doctor's face. "What?"

"We can't ask her."

"Why not?"

Vilafii grimaced. "There were complications. We couldn't save her."

"But she can't have died," Han argued. "I only stunned her. No way could it've killed her."

"She didn't die from that. She had traces of powder across her face and chest. We think she inhaled some when she threw it at Luke. Whether the blast made her more vulnerable, we don't know. She went into deep unconsciousness. The droids did everything they could to resuscitate her."

Han smashed his fist down on the couch. "This is crazy! I'm not gonna let this happen. Someone's gotta be able to do something!"

"Her death... it doesn't mean... Luke seems very much stronger than she was."

"I want to see him. I'm not gonna be pushed out."

"There's nothing you can do at the moment."

"You don't understand. I need to see him."

Vilafii studied Han for a moment, and then inclined her head slightly. "I _do_ understand, believe me. But it can only be for a short while."

"I'll take what I can get," Han muttered.

 

The smell of bacta made Han's stomach clench as it always did. Too many times he'd had to hang around bacta wards, waiting for news of Luke.

This time, there was nothing to see. They had Luke almost totally covered up. This was to exclude all light, Vilafii explained.

"Some types of eye injuries cause photosensitivity. We're not taking any chances until we're sure things are okay."

Han moved over to the only part of Luke not hidden away. The acid had attacked the synth-skin of Luke's right hand, but they'd managed to prevent it from damaging the circuitry.

"We'll need a prosthetics droid to repair that damage."

"It's an injury," Han said abruptly.

"Yes. I'm sorry." She paused for a moment, watching Han take hold of Luke's hand. "I hadn't realized," she added.

"Realized what?"

She didn't answer directly. "I've seen hundreds of prostheses and thousands of injuries since I started working here. I didn't think anything could shock me."

Han looked back at her with a frown. "You're not just talking about his hand, are you?"

She shook her head. "I guess I'm no different from most people. On Jarodine, the Alliance are heroes you know. You freed our people from the Empire."

"Your people fought alongside us," Han pointed out.

She nodded. "I know. But it's the image we have of you all that I'm talking about. Everybody's heard of Luke Skywalker, the Jedi. But no-one sees the person beneath do they? They just see that image. We don't think about what he went through to get there. Finding that out... it's hard, somehow. Because I can see it hasn't been easy."

"He wouldn't want people to think like that. As far as he's concerned, he's no different from millions of others."

"But millions of others wouldn't have survived that. Having seen what I've seen... those scars... it's impossible for me not to draw conclusions."

Han looked down at Luke's hand and said nothing. He proceeded to link his fingers carefully with Luke's.

"I'm sorry," Vilafii said. "It's probably not been easy for you either."

"No," Han admitted, "but it'll get a whole lot easier if you bring him back."

***

A gentle tap on the shoulder brought Han out of his fitful sleep and to his feet in an instant, blaster drawn and leveled.

"Wedge!" Han lowered his blaster. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Bit jumpy aren't you?" Wedge admonished. "Admiral Sallis told me where to find you."

"Who?"

"Admiral Sallis? The Jarodine Defense Force? Heard of 'em?"

"Oh, yeah, right," Han replied distractedly, glancing at his chrono for the second time since Wedge's appearance. "But what are you _doing_ here?"

"Lookin' for you, obviously. What've you done to your hands?"

Han ignored the question. "What d'you want? Thought you had a couple more days on Maronia."

"Hasn't Sallis told you? Madine talked to her."

"Ain't seen her yet. We were gonna call in there after we got outta here." He rubbed a hand across his face wearily. His head felt heavy and he ached with fatigue brought on by too much travel, too little sleep and the trauma of recent events. The pain relief they'd given him for his hands had completely worn off, and the burns throbbed savagely. He guessed that Wedge was as mystified by the state of his appearance and odd behavior as he himself was by the Rogue leader's appearance, but clearing his head was going to take more than willpower.

"Look, there's a caf bar down that corridor. Can we go grab a drink?"

"Sure," Wedge agreed, casting a puzzled glance at Han as they set off.

Caf in hand, Han took several scalding sips, feeling the stimulant kick in, reviving his dulled senses. "So what's goin' on?" he asked.

"Haven't you heard anything from the Taramine base?"

Han downed the rest of his caf and shook his head. "We commed 'em when we got here. We were gonna go there first, but it seemed a waste of time. 'Sides, we wanted to make it subtle – no army back up." Judd had obviously got the subspace message he'd sent from the _Falcon._ Strange that a reply had never made it back.

Wedge grinned. "You and subtlety together, huh? Yeah, the base told us you'd come here. I guess they've been waiting for you to call in." He frowned slightly. "But you must've been here for over 15 hours."

"I dunno. I've lost track," Han admitted. "Who brought you down?"

"No-one. The reception droid told me where to look. Took me a while though – this place is unbelievable."

"Yeah."

"So where's Luke?"

Han jabbed his finger back in the direction they'd come from. "Down there."

"What's he doing?"

"Trying to stay alive, with any luck."

Wedge stared at him. "What're you talking about?"

Han explained, deliberately picking apart the synthfiber mug as he did so. By the time he'd finished, the mug had become a messy pile of shreds.

Wedge looked at the shredded mug, and back up again at Han. "There's no way something like this is gonna get the better of Luke. He's the strongest of any of us. And he's come through much worse."

Wedge's attempt at reassurance did nothing to calm Han's agitation. He exhaled a breath full of pent-up emotion. "How many times, Wedge? How many times is this gonna happen before...?" He gave up, raising his hands briefly in a gesture of frustration.

"Before the fighting ends? Or before Luke stops getting involved? He won't change, Han. No more than either of us ever will."

"Yeah – I know that." Han gazed across at Wedge. "But it's too soon. After Talandir."

Wedge nodded back at him, his expression grim. Han knew that Wedge found that whole affair impossible to forget too. It'd been the closest they'd ever come to losing Luke, and it'd made victims of everyone who cared.

"You know, afterwards, he wouldn't talk to me about it – not properly. But what the hell must it've been like? _Seven whole days_ , Wedge."

"I know," Wedge said quietly.

"And he'd go and visit the Chaal again, if he thought it was a good idea."

"It's part of who he is." Wedge hesitated a moment. "Look, I'm not trying to interfere or anything. It's just... maybe he wouldn't talk about what happened 'cause he was trying to protect you?"

"It didn't protect me," Han argued. "All I did was sit there tryin' to imagine – and how's that s'pposed to help?"

"I dunno. But it's one thing to say we want to know – it's another to deal with actually knowing."

Han acknowledged Wedge's point with a brief, weary nod. "But I _still_ try 'n imagine. I don't know any more now than I did back then. And it ain't over yet. These things can take forever to sort out – we've seen enough of it to know."

"It's still early days. Maybe he's not ready to talk yet. But _you_ need to talk about it too, otherwise it'll just build up inside you. When this is over...?"

"Yeah, maybe." Han sighed. "There are times when I've been a real jerk – I can't blame him for shutting me out. But it's all in his head. People think just 'cause he looks okay that he _is_ okay, and he hides behind that 'Jedi look'. You know the one I mean."

Wedge nodded again, remaining silent.

"But how much can people deal with by themselves?" Han continued. "I guess I haven't helped by hassling him. It's just that every time he goes out there, I'm thinking, will he come back?" He gave a half-hearted grin. "Sorry – I'm not making much sense. It's kinda hard to explain."

"It's not you that doesn't make sense, it's this life we lead. I've got no answers – it's something you need to work out between you. And you don't need to explain."

Han stared at him for a moment. "That obvious, huh?"

"As a Gamorrean in a room full of Twi'lek dancers."

"Very poetic."

Wedge grinned at him. "I've got hidden talents. They hurt?" He gestured towards Han's hands.

Han shrugged. "A bit." He paused, then returned Wedge's grin. "Yeah, they do."

"Get 'em to give you something."

Han nodded. "I still dunno why you're here – is Judd behind it?"

"He found something out on Fiore. I don't know all the details, but it's about some scientist. Going by the name of Dresko or something."

"Jerik Druso," Han said flatly. He kept forgetting about his and Luke's reason for being here – the recent incident had simply taken over. The reminder was like a chill breeze hitting the back of his neck.

"Yeah, that's the name. Apparently he's here on Jarodine. Judd's on his way over and Madine's sending a couple of squads, but they're gonna take a while longer to get here. That's why he sent Wes 'n me on first – it's a quicker hop from Maronia. I've left Wes up in reception. In case I missed you on your way out."

So there they had it. Confirmation that Jerik Druso still existed. And Judd had discovered his whereabouts. Han wondered how that had come about, and if he'd found any conclusive evidence to confirm that Druso and Jak Zembeki were one and the same. But even so, sending a team of twenty seemed overkill on Madine's part. Especially with Wedge and Wes here too. "Two squads? For one man?" he said.

"Not just for one man. There's a group heading out from Fiore – call themselves the Swelvarne Front. They're gonna be running a snatch job. Plan is, they come in, grab this scientist, then go off and start bargaining for a better deal in life. Judd said you wouldn't know any of this. But he was more worried about you and Luke. He said if this Druso discovered you were here, you might be walking into a whole load of trouble. You got a problem with this guy?"

Han didn't answer Wedge's question, because he was shaking his head in disbelief. "This whole thing just gets better 'n better. Judd must've found Haric Evlar then."

"You know him?"

"I know _of_ him. He's the leader of the Swelvarne Front. Judd went back to Fiore to look for him, and Luke 'n I went to Ghandrellia."

"He didn't find him," Wedge explained. "But a friend of one of the Front's members turned up at the base, lookin' for someone to talk to. She'd got suspicious, thought something odd was going on, so she did a bit of investigating. All the details were on this friend's datapad. Plans, rendezvous points – the lot."

"Not very clever," Han muttered. "But some friend, huh? Runnin' around behind people's backs."

"A worried friend though, by the sound of it. There was something about a deal with the Imps."

"Great. What do Evlar's lot hope to get out of it? A private trade in porolite with Moff Blaine on Gamorr?" Han said, with heavy irony.

"Whatever they're playing at, the datacard's given us all we need to know. And we've got a head start."

"Convenient. When's all this gonna happen?"

"The Swelvarne Front left Fiore a few days ago, but they're taking a roundabout route. They're not due here for another three days. That's when they're planning on doing it."

Han was thoughtful. "And Madine's squads will get here the day before that. I guess he's told you we've gotta wait for them before doing anything?"

"Goes without saying," Wedge grinned. "Madine sent me 'n Wes in advance to find you so we could keep you out of it. He panicked when he found out you'd come here."

Han rolled his eyes. "Madine panics if he's got a hair outta place."

"So why _are_ you here?"

"For one big party by the look of it. We're all after the same thing."

"The scientist? Must be quite someone to be so popular."

"You ain't heard half of it–" Han stopped abruptly. Doctor Vilafii, her face tight with anxiety, was approaching the table.

"What's happened?" Han was already out of his chair.

"You need to come straight away."

Han pushed his chair back with force, sending it thudding into the back of another table, and charged off down the corridor without waiting for further explanation. Wedge followed, after throwing a handful of credits onto the table.

Both Wedge and Vilafii caught up with Han at the doors to the bacta wing.

"Not down there." Vilafii set off down an adjoining corridor.

The doctor stopped outside a large plasteel door. It had a retina-scan security beam and thumbprint touchpad. Vilafii used both, then tapped in a further entry code on the console.

"This our most secure room. Nobody can get in without the right identification. But... somehow, he's gone."

"What d'you mean, gone?" Han asked incredulously.

Han and Wedge followed Vilafii into the suite. It was a typical recovery room. Han had been in so many now he'd lost count. Monitors lined the wall, together with all the rest of the standard paraphernalia. A thick cable led to a small box set into the wall above the scanners. Han recognized it as a monitoring alarm. If the machines shut down, or began to give abnormal readings, it triggered the alarm. As well as an audible signal in the room itself, the box would also generate a secondary alarm in the team control unit assigned to this wing. But the alarm only worked if the connecting cable was intact. Han stared at the neatly-cut ends.

"Could he have done this himself?"

The doctor shook her head. "It wouldn't be possible. He'd shown no signs of recovering from the effects of the narcotic."

"But this _is_ Luke we're talking about." He was clutching at straws, and knew it.

Vilafii frowned. "But even if he'd recovered consciousness, why not just call someone? Why cut the alarm? He wouldn't even have been able to see with the dressings. It doesn't make sense."

"But you don't know the effects of those drugs. Maybe he was confused, couldn't remember what happened. His first instinct might've been to get out."

"Maybe," she conceded, reaching into the locker. "But wouldn't he have taken this with him?"

Han stared at Luke's lightsaber in her outstretched hand. Automatically, he reached for it, slipped it into his belt. "I should've been allowed to stay with him. If they hadn't pushed me out..."

Vilafii was saying something else, and Han had to drag his attention away from his chaotic thoughts so he could listen.

"... like he's never been here. If it wasn't for his things of course." Vilafii shook her head. "It's strange. Everything's just too tidy."

Han turned to follow her gaze, which rested on the bed. The top sheet was carefully pulled up, folded over and tucked in. More than just the incongruity of it, the whole neatness of it disturbed him. It reminded him of something too. A body lying on a dusty factory floor. Bereljia Kovo – her body composed, arms crossed over her chest. Her clothes neatly smoothed and perfectly arranged. _Oh hells..._

In one movement, he snatched the sheet and ripped it from the bed, knocking the pillow to the floor at the same time, knowing what he'd find. It was there, the petals slightly crushed from the weight of the pillow. One of the sharp, curving thorns on the stem had snagged the sheet below, causing a tiny hole.

He heard Vilafii's exclamation of surprise, and automatically held his arm out, preventing her from moving closer.

"Don't touch it!"

"What the hell _is_ that?" Wedge asked.

"It's all wrong. He's changed the plan," Han said, his voice full of disbelief.

"What's going on?"

Han turned back to face Wedge with a new, grim determination taking hold of him.

"I'll explain everything. But first, it's time to pay someone a little visit."


	16. Chapter 16

Adrift in darkness, Luke was aware of nothing but a vague impression of his own existence. Flickers of consciousness ebbed and flowed, each time bringing the merest hint that there was something beyond the all-encompassing blackness. But as the feelings slowly intensified, he identified them for what they were. The knowledge wasn't completely welcome.

Because foremost of the sensations that had dragged him back from unconsciousness was pain. It was everywhere, crawling along the length of his body and spiking through his head. And then there was heat – a dense, suffocating, heavy heat that pressed down on him and made even breathing an effort. And pressure. Touches of discomfort that seemed to be targeting specific areas of his body. He knew he should try moving, but couldn't work out how to do it. He gave up for the moment, concentrating instead on trying to clear his mind.

The last thing he remembered was Han's voice. He'd held onto the sound for as long as he could, hearing Han's words growing fainter and fainter in the encroaching blackness. There'd been medics too – a jumble of confusion and clutching hands. Was he in some sort of recovery room then? It would make sense, if it wasn't for the uneasy perception that too many things seemed wrong.

There were none of the familiar smells, other than a lingering hint of bacta. And it was far too silent for a medcenter. Even in the quietest of rooms, there was always the hum of equipment, or the mechanical whirr of droids.

His head felt heavy, and thinking was difficult. It was tempting to fall back into darkness, where he wouldn't need to worry about anything. Instead, he forced himself into full wakefulness.

He needed to concentrate on one thing at a time. The bacta scent was coming from his skin. He recalled the caustic sting of the powder across his face and hands and, much worse, in his eyes. Tentatively, he flexed the muscles in his face. The skin felt tight and hot in places, like the raw surface of burns.

He tried opening his eyes. It was impossible. He fought back the rising panic with more reasoning. There was something heavy against his eyelids, forcing them to stay closed, and probably accounting for the depth of darkness. The burning had gone, replaced by a gritty soreness and an insistent, throbbing pain that radiated across the whole of his skull.

He'd worked out by now that he was lying on his side, his right arm trapped beneath him and his other arm curled inwards towards his chest. He concentrated first on that, clenching and unclenching his fingers, identifying the individual muscles and joints. It was problematic, as his body didn't want to respond, and the arm seemed unaccountably heavy. There was a strange metallic sound as he moved it. He managed to reach up slowly to touch the thing across his eyes. It felt like a bacta mask.

And something else had now become apparent. Whatever it was he was lying on, it wasn't a bed. It was hard and unyielding, its surface gritty and abrasive. It felt like duracrete. He stretched out his legs, agonizingly slowly, forcing them to move. There was the odd metallic noise again, and now he could feel more clearly the small areas of pressure he'd noted before. With dawning comprehension, he recognized the unrelenting edge of metal against his skin. Around his ankles and wrists. Chains.

And suddenly he was back there. The realm of nightmares – horrifying and unbelievable, until the moment he'd accepted the reality of it. _Talandir_. A part of his mind forever imprisoned in those steel chambers that masked all sound.

_Oh gods, not again._ Luke summoned all his energy into movement. He made it onto all fours before the waves of nausea and dizziness poured over him.

"You should lie still."

Luke froze. The man's voice seemed to come from nowhere, and he'd neither heard nor sensed his presence.

"Where am I?" His voice came out as little more than a cracked whisper. His throat was raw, as though sandblasted by a desert storm.

"There's water in a jug. It'll help the sickness to pass."

"Who are you?" He reached a hand to the bacta mask. If he could just remove it and see...

"Leave it. Or you'll end all your chances of regaining your sight."

Luke dropped his hand back down. "What d'you want?"

There was no answer, and this time Luke could sense the man's absence. Still on all fours, he felt carefully around him. A chain caught on something, making a low, dull thud. He moved his fingers towards the sound, retrieving the precious jug of water.

***

In the research labs of Jerik Haludin and Elina Breya, Han and Wedge studied the holoprojection of the Peshtin quadrant swamps. Elina Breya sat to one side, watching them carefully. She'd provided the projection for them, and had marked it in several areas.

Wedge pointed to a large expanse of gray. "Our landing teams put down there during the Jarodine campaign. It's about the only dry place to land a ship. You can get into the swamps down the Peshtina River if you've got the right transport."

He traced the meandering progress of the river with a fingertip, the illuminated plan casting flickering shadows across his arm. The river split into a complex of tributaries and stagnant lakes. Enmeshed in the middle of these were several patches of red. "Those are the old Imperial cabins. They used them to monitor prisoner activity. I doubt there's much left of them now."

Han nodded, and turned to Elina Breya. "You haven't marked Haludin's place yet."

The lab assistant got up, her expression revealing her uneasiness with the whole situation. Han guessed this must feel, to her, like a betrayal of her colleague.

She punched in a few commands on the holoprojector console. A tiny patch of blue highlighted a small enclosure several miles to the south of the Peshtina River entrance. It was right beneath the edge of the cliffs that divided the swamplands from the scrubby plains above.

Wedge studied his datapad and then looked back at Breya. "The location code you just put in – can you read it out to me?"

She did so, and Wedge gave a small murmur of satisfaction. "It's the same code as the one on the card given to Judd," he explained. "That's where the Swelvarne Front are gonna be heading in three days."

"So that's it then," Han said, sounding considerably calmer than he felt. "We've definitely found who we're looking for."

Elina Breya spoke up then, her voice tight with anxiety. "It means nothing! Even if Jerik _is_ this person you keep talking about, it doesn't mean he's done those awful things. It's all speculation!"

Han shrugged, pretending indifference. "But we're gonna find out – one way or the other."

He turned back to the holoprojection. Access to the enclosure would normally be by speeder or swoop, but any vehicle traversing the drop would be in full view. The only undetectable way in was on foot.

"We've gotta steer clear of the landing pads – take our transport in somewhere below that enclosure."

"There's no clear place to put down anywhere near there," Wedge pointed out. "It'll mean taking swoops across land for some way."

Han nodded. "That's better anyway. We don't know who's gonna be watching."

Elina Breya ran a hand through her hair. "Will you let me come with you? I could talk to him. I don't believe he means anyone any harm..."

Han shook his head. "There's no way you're comin' with us. For one thing, he'll be expecting us, so it's gonna be dangerous. For another, we need you to stay here with Linu Vilafii, so the two of you can tell Commander Page everything that's happened." He glanced across at Wedge. "Assuming he gets here."

"He'll get here," Wedge said, "but there's gonna be hell to pay for bypassing the Jarodine military and not contacting Madine."

"Yeah, well Judd can handle that. I dunno about Ackbar though – he ain't gonna like it if he thinks Madine's tryin' to commandeer the Rogues."

Wedge threw him a grin. "I'd be more worried about Ackbar's reaction if we all sat around on our asses doing nothing. He'll be a lot more worried about Luke than about some breach of protocol."

"That's settled then," Han said. He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease some of the tension. "There's another thing anyway – how do we know who to trust any more? The Taramine base knew Luke 'n I were here. Maybe there's someone working on the inside. I'd rather play it safe, and this gives us a chance to get everything sorted before anyone else arrives to join in the fun."

There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but Han wasn't sure he wanted to ask them. He wondered just how much time had elapsed between the capture of the earlier victims and their deaths. Or maybe there hadn't been any time. Maybe they'd been killed straight away.

***

It was impossible to keep track of the time in the continual darkness. He had no idea whether he'd been here weeks, days or only hours. And despite his efforts to clear his head, Luke was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Things should've been improving, but even if he lay still, the dizziness refused to go. If anything, it had got worse, and any sort of movement brought on bouts of violent sickness. The heat in the room drained his reserves of energy even further.

The man came and went frequently. He brought water, but there was never enough of it. Luke wasn't sure how much time passed between his visits as he kept falling into an exhausted half-sleep that never left him feeling any better. He spent the remainder of his time considering how he was going to get out.

He'd explored the room he was in as far as the chains would allow him to move. It'd taken him a long time, simply crawling round in a small circle. He'd found nothing, and the effort had made him curl up afterwards, willing away the pain in his head. His captor was clearly taking no chances. The only object in the room was the water jug. Made of a flexible, synthetic fiber, it was too light to use as a weapon.

He'd run his fingers over the chain bindings, searching for a weakness. But someone had sealed the joints permanently, probably with high-heat laser fusion. Luke remembered the binders falling from his wrists as he stood before the Emperor, their mechanism no impediment to Palpatine's casual use of the Force. But even if his powers were good enough, there was nothing for him to work on here. The chains themselves were solid links of durasteel, the ends buried deep in the floor.

"Why are you keeping me here?" he'd asked, on one of the man's visits.

The man had ignored the question, but Luke had felt a ripple in the Force as the man gave off a sudden spark of emotion. Hatred.

That reaction was nothing new to Luke. Hatred was something he'd come to terms with over the years. He could never be just Luke to anybody these days. Idolized or despised. Jedi, Rebel scum, war hero, mass murderer, the son of Vader... He couldn't recognize himself in the labels others insisted on marking him with. This time though, the hatred had a slightly different quality to it. It seemed more personal.

That tremor of feeling had been the first weakness the man had shown, and Luke intended to use it. He knew he needed to exploit it without pushing too hard, and that would be the real test. He'd never been one to sit back and bide his time. Far too impatient. Yoda had warned him, and Ben too. Not to mention Han – although he was a fine one to preach patience, Luke thought, with the first hint of amusement he'd felt since waking up in this place. But on Talandir he'd been _too_ defiant. And he'd paid a heavy price for it.

He wished he could clear his mind properly. His feelings through the Force seemed permanently out of focus, and wouldn't let him sense beyond the confines of the room he was in. He tried again. Four blank walls. No windows, no door mechanism on his side, no skylight. No obvious means of escape. And yet, strangely, there was a familiarity about the place, which he couldn't pinpoint. It was there, right on the edges of his mind, but just out of reach.

Luke inched his hand out, searching for the water jug. He was constantly thirsty. It would tear him from sleep, and have him blindly fumbling about for the only thing the man had given him in this place. Hell, but he was so clumsy! The chains hampered his movement, and he yanked hard at one to ease the strain on his leg. He heard the chain catch on the jug, and too late, he tried to stop the inevitable, listening to the water trickle away beyond his reach.

"Damn." He stilled as he caught the hiss of the door.

The man gave a sardonic laugh. "I thought the Jedi were immune to mundane things like carelessness. Or do you just live a life of pretence, like the Jedi of the past?"

"I don't pretend to be anything I'm not," Luke replied, his voice still little more than a hoarse whisper.

"Then you know you deserve this."

"I don't know what _this_ is. I know some things can't be put right, but I'd like to try and understand."

"You're missing the point Skywalker – some things _can_ be put right. That's why you're here."

"So how d'you plan on putting things right? By killing me?"

"Oh, I need you to stay alive for a bit longer yet."

It occurred to Luke that he was having the longest conversation he'd yet had with his captor, and he'd triggered it with a simple accident. If he could spin things out, edge the subject round to that buried hatred the man was harboring...

"The powder – you arranged that?"

"Everyone has a price. It was easy to find someone willing to throw it."

"But she didn't know what it was, did she?" Luke recalled the woman, framed in the bacta-wing doorway. He'd detected nervousness in her, but no hatred or anger. And definitely no fear. If he'd sensed any danger, things might've turned out very differently.

"She didn't care as long as she got paid. It did its job. You've been out for days."

"But the medcenter–"

"The medcenter has minimal security. It was ridiculously easy to get in and out."

"Did you...? A friend of mine was there with me."

"Solo didn't have a clue what was happening."

Luke heard it then, and something clicked into place. It was there in the way the man spoke Han's name, not only with an ease of use that indicated familiarity, but with a bitterness that suggested a festering resentment. Whatever this was, it had everything to do with Han, and nothing to do with an attack that had simply taken advantage of their visit to Taramine. The trap had been laid out for them to follow from the moment Luke had received the first of the messages. And he'd walked right into it.

"He'll be looking for me."

"But in the wrong place. He's still stumbling around on Jarodine."

Luke clamped down on the involuntary surge of elation those words brought, determined to keep his mind centered on his captor. Han was alive. For the moment, that knowledge was enough. And whilst the man's attention was on the true focus of his obsession, he was all the more likely to open up. Deep-set resentment usually found its way to the surface, and sometimes it was just a matter of providing the right outlet.

"He'll soon realize that. He won't be fooled for long," Luke said.

"Solo once thought he had the better of me," the man replied. "This time, it's my turn. We'll see how clever he really is when this is all over."

Luke had found that outlet. He listened in silence as his captor took the opportunity to off-load his grievances against Han. It was a story that reached back into the past – to over 20 years ago.


	17. Chapter 17

He was his own worst enemy. Luke knew that now beyond all doubt, but sometimes he just couldn't help it, even when he'd promised himself that he'd stay away from provocation. But then it wouldn't be the first time he'd got into trouble because he couldn't keep his opinions to himself.

At least he'd learned two more things about his captor. He had no sense of humor, and he had a genuine liking for inflicting pain.

Luke thought back to when he'd first met Han. He couldn't stay quiet even then, and Han had told him to watch his mouth. Well obviously he hadn't learned how to yet. The thought made him want to laugh, which was ridiculous in the circumstances. This latest escapade had better not end up with him getting dumped in a bacta tank, or Han would most likely throttle him to save everyone the hassle.

He'd known it was coming, of course. That was one of the benefits of sensing things through the Force. You always knew when someone was going to kick you in the ribs.

Just for a second, he'd been tempted to retaliate, but it was too soon. There were things he still needed to know, and appearing more defenseless than he was came in handy sometimes. Not that he was exactly in an ideal position to do much about anything, but he needed to hold on to every advantage.

And he needed to know where he was.

Apparently not on Jarodine. And he'd been out of it for days. They could be anywhere in the galaxy. And yet... something didn't feel right about it all.

He twisted round with difficulty, wincing at the sharp stab of pain and the ominous grating sensation that came with it. He put his hand out, searching for the water jug. This thirst was overwhelming. It was almost as though the more he drank, the worse it got. At least, thankfully, the nausea and dizziness had eased a little for the first time.

The reality hit him at the same time as his fingers touched the jug.

"Gods! How could I have missed that?"

It was so obvious now he'd thought about it. Ironic too, because now that same clumsiness that'd knocked the last water jug over and inspired his captor to talk, had given him back the use of his brain.

So he hadn't just been suffering the after-effects of the knockout drug that the woman had thrown at him. He was _still_ being drugged. It stood to reason that his captor wouldn't have been confident enough to rely on restraints alone, so he'd added something else to cause confusion and disorientation. Something that had rendered Luke pretty much incapable of anything, including logical thought. And he'd been drinking it at every opportunity.

All his other little misgivings were crowding into his mind now. Like wondering how long he'd been here. He reached out a hand to feel his face. Rough stubble, but probably no more than a day or two. There was also that scent of bacta. The smell of it lingered for a couple of days after treatment, but no more.

 _Useful to be so good at analyzing bacta applications_ , he thought wryly. Another skill he'd picked up over the years.

So his captor had lied to him. One of Mersinn's twins could've worked that out faster than he had. If he'd not been so heavily drugged, he'd have known instantly.

Luke lay back down on the floor, trying to breathe shallowly because it hurt a bit less that way. The smell of the place was triggering the sense of familiarity. It was like a mixture of rotting vegetation and stagnant water. And there was this crushing humidity too. Like Dagobah, but not like Dagobah. More like... the Jarodine swamps. They'd never even left the planet!

He wouldn't have thought it'd be possible to feel so jubilant whilst chained to a duracrete floor, but it seemed anything was feasible these days.

But before he got too carried away, there were other things to consider. Like his eyesight.

 _"... you'll end all your chances of regaining your sight..."_ he'd been told. Well, how convenient, keeping him literally in the dark by ensuring he kept that blackout mask on. If he'd been able to think straight, he might've wondered where that concern for his welfare had sprung from. He had to find out, and there was only one way to do it.

He concentrated on opening up his senses, feeling the Force around him more strongly than he'd felt it since he'd been here. There was no-one approaching, so Luke felt for the clasps that sealed the dressing. There was one on either side of his head, and he released them carefully.

 _Hope this isn't my biggest mistake yet_. He raised the dressing away from his face, and slowly opened his eyes.

Blinding light flooded everything, pain drilling through the backs of his eyes and into his brain. He closed his eyes tightly in shock. But, as if burned onto his retinas, Luke could see the outline of the room. He hadn't allowed his eyes time to get accustomed to light, but he _could_ see.

The relief he felt was almost overpowering – he'd have to work hard to hide that elation. He knew he could pull off the pretence of being drugged. Maintaining surface appearances was one of his more practiced abilities, after all.

***

Han lifted the electrobinoculars and waited for the autofocus to settle. When it did, he felt his chest tighten with anticipation. A low wooden chalet occupied part of the enclosure. Its shutters were firmly closed. Slowly, Han scanned the chalet's facade, but it offered no clue as to its occupants.

Moving the binoculars across, he examined the land that bordered the building. A careful and methodical mind had been at work. The ground was divided into plots, each dedicated to a different plant. Most were unrecognizable, but the waxy petals of a now familiar flower were distinctive, even from this distance. In the failing light, they were palely luminous, and Han imagined he could detect their pervasive scent.

He lifted a hand to wipe sweat from his brow. Even at this time of day the air was stifling, and so humid he suspected he'd be wringing his clothes out before the night was over.

He forced himself to relax his grip on the binoculars. It was all he could do to stop himself from rushing down the slope and tearing the chalet door down.

"Stay in control," he muttered to himself. After all, they had no idea how many people were in there.

At the back of the chalet were two long, low duracrete buildings that looked like workshops or laboratories. There was no sign of movement anywhere, but as Han studied the structures, a light came on in one of them.

He thumbed on his comlink, keeping his voice as low as possible. "Wedge – d'you see what I see?"

Wedge's voice came back in a similar low whisper. "Yeah. Shall we go take a closer look?"

"You and Wes take the left side – I'll go round the right."

Han rechecked his blaster for around the tenth time that evening. By now, dusk had well and truly arrived, but his fingers expertly assessed the familiar weapon by touch alone. Satisfied, he began his cautious descent.

***

The man swirled the amber liquid around in his glass, before taking a deep swallow. The best Alderaanian brandy. So scarce now, each mouthful was worth thousands of credits. But tonight was part celebration, and if it helped to dull the stab of hatred that seemed even keener tonight, then so much the better. Besides, revisiting the past was no longer a painful reminder of failure, but a reaffirmation of the justice in the course he was taking. Plus, it helped him to remain focused. He smiled to himself as he swallowed the last of his brandy.

He could see in his prisoner a resilience and strength that would have been frightening but for one inescapable fact. Skywalker needed him. Because without him, there'd be no way to discover the plans that were in store for both him and Solo. And no way to untangle the truth.

He'd held back on revealing anything of any genuine use. Giving Skywalker a few facts to dwell on was one thing, but he needed to keep a necessary hold over his prisoner. After all, he was far from stupid, and had heard the same childhood stories as everyone else. Skywalker was a Jedi, and who knew what might be lurking inside. He knew what Vader had justifiably done to the Jedi who used to wander freely about the galaxy, abusing the misguided trust placed upon them.

He was glad he'd taken the measures he had though. When Skywalker had provoked him, he'd been compelled to lash out violently. And there'd been something there – he'd felt it for only a split second. A subtle push. A physical hold on him that was broken the instant it was applied. He was sure, if circumstances had been different, Skywalker could have flung him against the wall if he'd wanted to. One thing was very clear though. As long as he believed there was a chance to save Solo, Skywalker would endure just about anything.

***

Han reached the bottom of the slope, where a low steel fence bordered the compound. He stayed behind it, keeping low, and checked out the area again. The light from the outbuilding cast a soft glow across the cultivated plots, but didn't extend as far as the fence.

On his hands and knees, he edged around the perimeter of the fence until he came to an area in deep shadow. Here, the plants were tall enough to mask his movements. He made his way cautiously through these, glad of his heavy jacket despite the heat. Who knew what type of nasty things might be growing in the plots.

Between him and the outbuilding lay an open expanse of ground with no cover. There was no alternative but to run for it and hope for the best. Half-way across, Han realized his mistake. He'd triggered a heat-activated security sensor, which flooded the entire area with bright light. Cursing viciously under his breath, Han dived for the shadows of the outbuilding wall. Moments later, the door to the outbuilding opened.

"Hello?" a man called out. "Who's there?"

The voice made Han's breath catch in his lungs, and drove away his last remaining doubts. There was no possibility that he was mistaken. He felt, amidst the growing anger, a prickle of something that felt almost like regret. If circumstances had been different, he'd have sworn he could detect no animosity in that familiar voice from the past. As it was, and knowing what he did, he had to believe it was there below the innocuous-sounding query. His back to the wall, Han inched closer to the doorway.

The voice again. "Is someone there? What d'you want?"

Han anchored his thoughts firmly on the last image he held of Luke, otherwise his mind would start playing tricks on him. The voice had changed little. It was older, deeper and rougher of course, but still retained its unmistakable Corellian lilt.

Jak Zembeki moved from the doorway into the pool of light that illuminated the open ground. With his back to Han, he studied the plots before him.

Silently, Han pulled away from the wall. Staying partly in shadow, he leveled his blaster at the figure now only feet away.

"Lookin' for me?"

For a moment, Jak stood, unmoving, the rigidity of his shoulders the only clue that he'd heard the question. Then he turned round slowly, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Who...?"

Han stepped out from the shadows, letting the light fall across his face. Jak, in the process of moving towards him, stopped abruptly. He started to raise a hand as if to reach out, but then checked himself and let it fall back to his side.

"I thought you'd be the thief..." his voice tailed off into silence, leaving the incongruous comment hanging in the air between them.

Whatever Han had expected him to say, it hadn't been that. It caused the slightest touch of alarm to trickle through his veins.

Jak's remark wasn't the only thing that seemed out of place. His reactions seemed all wrong too. When Han had first spoken, he'd detected in Jak a feeling of disbelief. When he'd let Jak see his face, the disbelief was replaced with amazement. There should've been none of that, because surely Jak _had_ to have been expecting him – it didn't make sense otherwise. But then, Jak had concealed the truth before. It couldn't be allowed to happen a second time.

"Where is he?" After the silence, Han's question seemed unnaturally loud.

The only response from Jak was bewilderment. "Who? There's only me here." His gaze traveled to the blaster still aimed squarely at him, and when he looked up again, his eyes held an expression all-too-familiar to Han.

Familiar, because he'd seen it in Luke's eyes too. Pain. Not physical, but something that lurked in the recesses of the mind, and spoke of past horrors witnessed and suffering endured. However hard Luke tried to bury it, it resurfaced in unguarded moments and never ceased to wrench Han's guts.

The sense that something was very wrong here had intensified. Han swallowed, determined to keep his mind focused, but Jak had already begun to speak again.

"You've come a long way since Ghandrellia. I hear about you all the time now. When I found out what you'd done – I couldn't believe it was you they were talking about."

"What I'd done?"

"For the rebellion. It took me a while to catch up with everything because I'd heard nothing for years. I always knew you'd got away of course..."

The blaster wavered a little in Han's hands, and he made himself grip it more firmly. "Yeah, I got away. But whatever you think happened that's made you hate me, you're gonna hafta explain it to me."

Jak was staring at him. "Why would I hate you? When I heard you'd left Ghandine–"

"So why've you done it?" Han cut in.

"Done what?"

Han took an angry step forward. "How long are we gonna play this stupid game–"

"Han!" the whisper was urgent, piercing the darkness. Wedge appeared beside them, shadowy and anxious.

"What?" Han asked, without turning away from Jak.

"Get inside now!"

Wedge's tone left no room for argument. Quickly, Han grabbed Jak's arm and hustled him into the outbuilding. Wes, who'd appeared from nowhere, slipped in behind them. Wedge followed, closing the door and stabbing at the locking-console.

"What's going on?" Han asked.

"Visitors. At least four. Following us down the slope. Picked 'em up on the sensor."

Han looked hard at Jak. "You expecting company?"

Jak shook his head. "The only visitors I get are those who come to steal. That is, until you turned up."

"Looks like you just got popular. What're you pickin' up Wedge?"

"Eight now. Could be more back up the cliff."

"Keep monitoring 'em." Han turned back to Jak, his voice edgy with tension. "Outside, you said something about a thief. What did you mean?"

"That's why I put the security light up. Every now and then, someone comes along and takes things. They're careful about it – don't cause any real damage. But this is a research project, and I'm pretty possessive about it."

"Research?"

"Medical. I'm trying to create new vaccines."

"From the plants? Genetically-engineered?"

"Some of them are, yes."

"You make vaccines? What about poisons?"

Jak shrugged. "It's often the same thing. Most medicines are toxic if used incorrectly."

"Yeah – but I'm talking about deliberately manufactured poisons. Capable of killing thousands."

Jak turned very pale. "If you're after that sort of thing, you've come to the wrong person. All I'm interested in is healing."

"But what about the Druso toxin? After all, you _are_ Jerik Druso, aren't you?"

Reflexively, Jak moved backwards, his expression one of shocked incomprehension.

" _What do you know about the Druso toxin_?" he whispered.

"Seems the whole goddamn galaxy knew about it before me. Looks like I was just about the last to find out the real identity of an old friend too."

"Why d'you think I didn't tell you? Knowing that would've been dangerous for you! I had no other reason to keep it from you."

Han gave a short, humorless laugh. "So back then you were worried about my safety. What is it now? Payback time?"

Jak shook his head, confused. "I don't understand you. I can explain the whole thing."

"That's good to know," Han snarled. He looked over at Wedge. "Looks like Jak's gonna tell us what he's done with Luke."

"Luke? Is he one of your people? D'you mean Luke Skywalker?" Jak looked from Han to Wedge. Taking their silence as confirmation, he continued. "He hasn't been here, and I've never met him. Why would I know anything about him?"

"Well if you've never met _him_ , maybe the names Bereljia Kovo, Teshk Dirvinian, Ferim Saguno and Marika Bronn might ring a bell."

"I... not Dirvinian, but the others... yes, of course I know them." Jak rubbed a hand across his eyes as though trying to clear his head.

"Go on," Han muttered.

"You want to know about Bereljia? I owe her more than I could ever repay. She saved my life once, and I've never had the chance to thank her. And Marika Bronn? She's a good friend of mine. We were prisoners together in the swamps." He gave a slight shrug. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me about Ferim Saguno."

Jak stared back at Han for a moment. "I don't exactly know him, 'cause I never got the chance to meet him. But I'm not likely to forget his name am I?" he said, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. "He was supposed to be my escape route out of Ghandine, but only _you_ got to go on his ship in the end. I just don't know why you're asking me these things. Has something happened to them?"

"They're all dead," Han said bluntly, watching Jak's face.

Jak recoiled abruptly, shock draining his face of color. "Please, tell me that isn't true. Not Marika. Not Bereljia."

There was no mistaking Jak's anguish. It was tangible, thickening the air with grief and loss. In an instant, Han knew at least some things for certain. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, he'd always really known. It'd been there in all his actions – how he'd hung back, giving Jak room and time to speak. How he'd not barged in, shoving Jak into a corner, his blaster ready to tear holes in his skull. Jak wasn't responsible for the deaths. He was innocent, like he'd always been.

Han closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

The simple words were barely adequate, but they were all he could manage for now, and besides, they covered everything Han wanted to say. That he was sorry he'd left Jak in Ghandine and sorry he'd not known the truth. Sorry for the deaths of Bereljia and Marika. Sorry for the false accusations, the lack of trust and the harsh words.

But also, he was saying sorry to Luke. Because he'd got everything wrong, and done everything wrong. Come to the wrong place and sought out the wrong man. He was no closer now to knowing who was playing this game than he had been on Fiore. And Luke was still missing.


	18. Chapter 18

The first thing Luke noticed was the smell of brandy. It was faint, but unmistakable. And it was interesting, because by implication it meant a lowering of the man's reactions.

And that wasn't the only thing that was different. The faintest creak of leather and subtle scent of machine oil told Luke something even more significant. His captor – normally too cautious as to bring anything of possible use to Luke into the room – was wearing a blaster. Whether the alcohol had made him forget to remove it, Luke didn't know and didn't care. It wasn't as though he was going to get many opportunities.

There was a pattern to violence, Luke had noticed. Once someone started to use it and found they liked it, they couldn't stay away from it for long. He doubted he'd have to work hard to trigger the reaction he needed. The man was probably just waiting for the first excuse. But it wouldn't hurt to push it a little.

"However you try justifying what you're doing," Luke said, "it's still all about power."

"What you think of as power means nothing to me. I live by my own definitions."

The man's tone was cool but the words, spoken too carefully, didn't quite hide the unstable emotions barely held in check. For Luke, things had reached a point where his captor's aggression had become a dangerous thing, and even though he'd not learned all he wanted to learn, it was time to end it. "But men like you always end up selling out to the highest bidder," he replied.

It had the anticipated effect, and Luke felt the flash of violent rage shudder through the Force. This time he was waiting. As his captor struck out brutally with his foot, Luke moved simultaneously, grabbing the boot before it touched him, and yanking the man to the floor with one fluid movement. He heard the dull thud as the man's head hit the duracrete, but Luke could sense he was still partly conscious.

He reached out, and the blaster flew from its holster into his hand, but he hesitated over the levers. His familiarity with blaster settings was far too rusty at the best of times, and this was hardly one of those times. And he had to be sure. He removed the bacta mask from his eyes, holding a hand in front of his face, and squinting against the too-bright light. It was difficult to focus, and took far too long to identify the various controls. The man had begun to move on the floor, a low groan of protest coming from his throat.

Luke hit him in the chest, the full stun blast causing instant immobilization and silence.

Breathing hard from the effort, Luke slid the blaster's lever to its most lethal setting, and went to work on the chains.

***

Jak took a small step closer to Han. "It's good to see you Han."

Han made a half-hearted attempt at a grin. "Yeah. You too." They stood for a few moments in silence, before Han spoke again.

"We need to talk. I didn't know–"

"They're on the move," Wedge cut in, looking up from his scanner.

Jak looked round at him. "They could be the thieves."

Han shook his head. "I don't think so. We've been expecting them. Just – they're too early. They shouldn't be here yet."

"Who are they? What do they want?"

There was no easy way to say it. "You, probably."

"Imperials?"

"Nah. These are amateurs. A bunch of factory workers with a grand plan."

"We were factory workers once," Jak pointed out. "It doesn't mean they don't know what they're doing."

"Sure, but we've got the edge on 'em. We know who they are and what they're after. They don't know the same about us, if they even know we're here." Han glanced at Wes, who was assessing the security of the lab, closing up shutters and checking the locks on the door mechanism. Wes looked over and shrugged.

"I don't know," Wedge said, frowning. "I don't like it. Why are they here now? It's not how it was supposed to be."

"Maybe they just changed their plans." Han's mind was racing. That Judd ended up with the copied datacard was a stroke of luck. Wasn't it? Madine's ships wouldn't arrive here for another two days, but Haric Evlar's group shouldn't have arrived until after that, if the datacard was accurate. He supposed the Swelvarne Front's members might've got suspicious, suspected they'd been betrayed. But they'd have already left Fiore by the time the woman went to the military base with the details of their plan. And just how much of a coincidence was it that two different sets of people, intent on finding one man, had ended up here on the same day?

Han was conscious of Jak beside him, shifting restively. "What if Judd's datacard wasn't genuine? If it was a plant..." he said slowly, trying to organize his thoughts.

"It means someone wanted to mislead us," Wedge finished, picking up Han's line of reasoning.

"Why though? Nothing makes any sense. They couldn't know exactly when we'd get here."

"Maybe not. But they gave us a very good reason to act straight away."

Han nodded. "Luke."

"Luke Skywalker?" Jak asked. "You keep mentioning him. Don't you know where he is?"

"No," Han admitted. "But I sure as hell am gonna find out."

"What's the plan then?" Wedge asked. He'd clambered up onto a ledge below the high windows, and trained the electrobinoculars on the area inside the fence. "They're circling round. On the outskirts of the plots now," he added.

"If they've come for Jak, or for us, we take 'em on," Han said. "What choice do we have?"

Wedge looked at Jak. "There's no way out of here? Just the main door?"

"Through the roof's the only other way. There's a secure bunker though."

"Where?"

"The entrance is under the workbench." Jak threw an apologetic smile at Han. "It'll seem pretty stupid, but I like the idea of a safe place to hide."

Han stared at Jak for a moment. "No, it doesn't seem stupid. But I don't think hiding's the best idea right now. I've got a bad feeling about this – we oughta try to get away from here. Can you see what they're carrying?" he asked Wedge.

"They're close now. I can see two of 'em. No, make that three. Coupla long-range rifles, a BlasTech repeater, something else..."

"What?"

"I dunno – some sort of canisters. I don't like the look of them."

"Lemme see." Han scrambled up onto the ledge, training his binoculars on the area Wedge pointed out. The canisters were long, slim cylinders. Each had red lettering down the side, but it was impossible to make out what it said. Slowly, he moved the viewer over the area. Picked out the three Wedge had seen. Movement in the darkness, and a fourth figure appeared. "Hang on a minute." A new kind of apprehension was beginning to replace his earlier uneasiness. "We're not talkin' factory worker here."

"What d'you mean?" Wedge asked.

"I've seen this guy before." He zoomed in on the face, a frown of concentration on his brow. "It's been a long time, but I'm sure he was at Sebrara."

"The Imp shipyard? A construction worker?"

"No – Imperial security." Han looked back at the others. "I don't get this, but I reckon this is the guy who arrested my old Captain. He was some sort of interrogator. From Coruscant, according to the squaddies. He came down to the surface with Velerrin the night I set the Wookiees free. It was a weird night – 's why I remember it so well."

"What the hell's he doing here–?" Wedge began.

" _Velerrin_?" Jak interrupted. "Did you say _Velerrin_?"

Han looked at him strangely. "Yeah. He was my captain on the _Dictator_. I made the Academy after all. Got posted on his ship. Meeting that scumbag opened my eyes to a few things."

" _Terrin_ Velerrin?"

"That's right. Why, did you know him?"

Jak gave a harsh laugh. "Only his name. Heard that a few times. He took my parents away."

"You mean the raid on the Prystyn labs? Velerrin was in on it?" Han asked, shocked.

"You seem to know quite a bit about my past. Yes – the raid. Velerrin led the squad."

"Did you see him?"

Jak shook his head. "Bereljia told me. Then, later, during the interrogation, his name came up again. They tried to get me to talk about him. I mean, how was I supposed to feel about a man who took part in my parents' arrest and torture?"

"You know, Velerrin was a real fucked-up headcase," Han muttered. "Did Marika tell you about her father?"

"She said he was murdered by the Empire."

"Velerrin did that. Not directly, but he was responsible. Chewie 'n I took Marika away. Left her with friends."

"You _knew_ Marika? It was _you_ who took her to Shil?" Jak said in amazement. "She never said who it was – only that it was a friend of her father's. So – you must hate Velerrin too!"

"Yeah. But this is all beyond a joke," Han muttered. "Seems everybody I was involved with was tied up with you in some way. It's weird though, 'cause I remember Velerrin asking about Ghandine. It's like he had some hang-up about me having been there."

He looked searchingly at Jak. There seemed to be a depth of conspiracy concerning past events that he'd barely begun to guess at. There wasn't time now to try to make sense of it all. He needed to concentrate on one thing at a time, before everything got too out of hand. And there was something Jak had to know.

"Velerrin's dead, Jak. His ship got blown apart at Erougia."

Jak nodded, acknowledging the fact, but said nothing. Han wondered if Jak was as confused by the past as he was. There was so much to talk about and too many things to explain, but it seemed ridiculous to be standing here talking while the surrounding group outside edged closer. But he had to say just one other thing. He stumbled over his words, wanting Jak to understand why he'd left him in Ghandine.

"Listen, I... on Saguno's ship – they told me you were dead. Shot by one of the guards."

"What?" Jak said, shaken. "Why would they...?" he tailed off, as a wave of comprehension washed over his face. He nodded slowly. "They knew you'd never leave otherwise."

"They told you I'd left? They used me against you?"

Jak shook his head. "Not exactly. The main interrogator was very... subtle. He played on the implications of betrayal, without ever coming out and saying that. He left it to me to draw my own conclusions."

"Did you... did you think I'd..."

Jak shook his head. "Of course not. Only – I always thought you'd come looking for me some time. Not then, obviously. Nobody could've helped me then."

"If I'd known the truth... I was waiting for you on the ship. The crew told me."

"None of it was your fault. There were so many things I kept from you. They'd have got me in the end, whichever way we'd done it."

"They tortured you, didn't they?" Han asked, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Jak gave another humorless laugh. "Oh, yes."

"I'm sorry." Seemed he was saying that a lot these days.

"Don't be. I got through it. It's over."

Han just looked at him, knowing Jak's casual reply was as far from the truth as it was possible to get. And now, only two years after gaining his freedom, others were trying to take that freedom away from him again.

Jak broke the moment of silence. He held his hand out to Han. "Can I have a look – see what we're up against?"

Han handed him the binoculars, and Jak trained them on the plots. Focused on a face. Instantly, his fingers lost their grip, allowed the binoculars to clatter to the floor. He turned round slowly, his face pale and etched with shock.

"What is it?" Han asked.

"He always said he'd meet up with me again. Seems like he's kept his word."

"Who?"

"Commander Kerul Talyn. Coruscant Imperial Security. The Genetic Research Foundation handed me over to him."

The name clicked into place for Han. It _was_ Talyn who'd come to the Sebraran shipyard. And it'd been Talyn who'd arrested his Captain. " _Talyn_ was your interrogator?" He wondered how much more unbelievable things were going to get.

Jak nodded. "There was a whole team. But he was in charge."

Everything felt like it was starting to spin out of control, and Han put a hand to his forehead in a vain attempt to tame his chaotic thoughts. Talyn had suddenly come from nowhere. But was he connected to everything then? Was it Talyn who'd taken Luke? Had he killed Bereljia and the others? It _had_ to be him. He didn't know how or why, but it seemed like things were beginning to fit together, and Han was certain he now had some answers.

The problem was, they were the worst kind of answers he could've hoped for. Talyn had been an imperial interrogator. For Luke to have ended up in the hands of someone like that was the closest thing imaginable to a living, recurring, nightmare. And if things went the way of–

Wes's voice broke through his thoughts. "Gas. That's what those cylinders are."

"You sure?"

"Pellurane gas. We've no chance if we stay in here. Stuff'll knock us out for hours."

Han pointed to the bunker entrance. "Jak – get in there. There's no way I'm gonna let Talyn take you again."

Jak shook his head. "Not a chance. I'm going out there with you."

"But–"

"No buts. Don't worry, Talyn won't get me. I'll die rather than give him that satisfaction."

"None of us are gonna die," Han said firmly. "You got a weapon?"

Galvanized into activity, Jak ran to a storage chest, pushed up the lid. He pulled out a heavy-duty BlasTech pistol. "I've picked up a few tricks since you last knew me. Thought it might pay to learn how to use one of these."

Han nodded. "First we need to kill the security light. Then we get up on the roof. Stay flat. Drop down round the back. If they've got night-vision, they'll be watching the door. Then we split up, and we go looking for 'em. Stun only – we don't want anyone killed. I've got a feeling I might wanna ask a few questions of this lot."

"D'you think they know we're here?" Wedge put in.

Han shrugged. "We'd better assume they do." He reached for his blaster, checked the settings. "Ready?"

***

He was in some sort of reinforced cabin – presumably a remnant of the Empire's occupation of the swamps. It was dark outside, but despite the large viewing windows very little moonlight found its way inside. Two years of neglect had allowed the swamp jungle to encroach. Vine-like creepers had twisted their way across the windows, filling the interior with a maze of shadows and giving everything an eerie, grey hue.

It was much cooler than the cell he'd been stuck inside for all those hours. A low hum pinpointed the generator that'd powered the cell's lighting and door controls. He ran a hand over the surface of one wall, locating a glow panel that filled the room with still-painful light.

Beside him, a grille-fronted box pumped air into the main room. Luke stood in front of it for a few moments, letting the chill brush of the temperature-controlled air wash over him. The icy current stung where it touched, helping to clear away the last residues of the drug-induced lethargy. It was tempting to stay there, to take advantage of the numbing comfort of cold, but there wasn't time for that. His priority was to secure his captor, otherwise he might end up finding their roles reversed yet again.

The room was full of portable communications equipment and crates of supplies. A hasty search through these uncovered a coil of synthrope. For a moment, as he studied the rope, a flicker of memory passed through his mind and chilled him more thoroughly than the air cooler. Had they been conscious when he'd bound them, or had he resorted to some trick like the one he'd used in the medcenter? They'd known what was going to happen of course. Synthrope always burned if you struggled against it.

The heat back in the cell was like a solid wall, robbing him of his breath. It was difficult to imagine how he'd managed to stand it for so long. It showed you could get used to anything, and now his former captor was going to have to undergo a similar test of endurance. And he'd also get to do it in bare feet, Luke thought, removing the man's heavy combat boots. As he left the cell, having bound the man's wrists and ankles, Luke blasted the door mechanism, disabling it and sealing the door.

There was water in the crates. Flasks and flasks of the stuff. Sealed, safe and wonderful. Luke even ignored the customary guilt that wasting water always brought, and emptied an entire flask over his head, closing his eyes as the liquid washed down his face and trickled inside his clothes.

He also found fatigues. Old and worn-out, but less distressed than the medcenter's standard issue recovery outfit he was wearing, which was now little more than rags.

He wasn't as lucky with the communications equipment. After several minutes, he abandoned the idea of contacting anyone – the protection codes in place were way beyond anything he could hope to break through. Maybe he should've paid more attention during the classes Madine had organized on dealing with encrypted code. He'd spent most of his time trying to prod Han awake before Madine noticed Han's not-so-enthralled attitude.

Impatiently, he flicked on every lever and every button he could find, then stopped in surprise when one of the screens finally lit up. It was a holomap. A plan of the swamplands, vaguely familiar to Luke from the campaign of two years ago. The old Imperial shelters were marked, probably including the one he was in too if he'd been able to pinpoint his location.

Also marked was a small enclosure with buildings, right on the border of the swamps and the uplands. He gazed at it for a moment, his mind running through countless possibilities. If it was marked, then it had to be relevant. And if it was relevant, then it could be a part of his captor's plans. And it might conceivably have some means of sending a communication. He had nothing to lose by trying to get there. He studied the holomap carefully, committing the details to memory and trying to form a sense of direction. From the deep darkness outside the cabin, his only form of navigation would have to be based on interpreting the night sky. Not easy in a system he wasn't familiar with, and where he had no idea of the distance he needed to cover.

Somewhere, his captor would have a form of transport. He'd search for that first, and then he'd work out just which way to go in order to locate that enclosure.

***

After Han dropped to the ground, he rolled instantly into full shadow. Flat on his front, he inched forwards. It was too silent everywhere to indicate real amateurs. He strained in the dark to hear, catching a slight rustle to the right of him. A blaster shattered the silence, and suddenly there was no time to think. Everything was happening far too fast. He acted on instinct, unerringly seeking out targets before they found him, no chance to wonder how Wedge and the others were faring.

Then suddenly it became more complicated. A dangerous game of hide and seek. One moment he was the pursuer, the next the hunted. His adversary was good, whoever it was. Thorns from foul-smelling plants tore at Han's clothes and skin, and he blinked away a trickle of blood from a cut above his eye. It was ominously quiet again. No more blaster fire or shouts punctuated the darkness, the sound of his own breathing the only thing Han could hear.

Suddenly, too close, the red sizzle of a blaster bolt singed the sleeve of his jacket, and he flung himself to one side, crawling rapidly through the tangle of vegetation. There was a small clearing ahead of him and Han stilled, listening hard. Nothing. He moved slowly forward, blaster at the ready.

The acrid stench of engine oil and crushed vegetation ahead of him told him where he'd ended up, but his realization came at the same time as the hot blast from the repulsors forced him to dive clear.

"Damnit, you're not getting away from me!" He leapt to his feet, heedless of the speeder bike's lunging advance towards him. He raised his blaster and fired.

The bike twisted violently, a shattered steering vane causing it to lurch towards the cliff. Certain it was going to collide with the rock face, Han lowered his blaster and waited. 

Against all probability, the rider corrected the bike's erratic progress, avoiding destruction by mere seconds. Han watched with disbelief and mounting dismay as the bike cleared the cliff and disappeared into the night.

His back against the cliff face, Han tapped in Wedge's frequency on his comlink, using a silencing code. If Wedge got the chance to notice, a muted flashing would alert him to Han's call.

Moments later, Han's own comlink flashed back. He spoke into it. "Can you talk?"

"We're all clear back here," Wedge replied. "I don't think they were expecting to fight. It was too easy."

"What've you got?"

"Six. But we're looking for eight."

"Make that seven. One of 'em got away."

"I heard a bike."

"Yeah. Jak's lost his transport. Means we're gonna hafta get back to ours on foot."

"Did you see who it was?" Wedge asked.

"No, but I got the impression he wasn't new to this kinda thing."

Han signed off, and with a last look round him, began to make his way back to the others.

 

They locked the six members of the Swelvarne Front in Jak's secure bunker. None of them owned up to being Evlar, but as Han had never met the guy, it was impossible to know for sure. Instinct told him they were telling the truth. For one thing, he was pretty sure that Evlar would be more skilled in a fight then his comrades had proved to be. Out of their depth, confused and suffering from the sheer weight of the heat and humidity, the factory workers were a subdued and disheveled sight.

The group claimed to be as much in the dark as everyone else, but Han and Wedge held off from questioning them in detail, too concerned by the thought that more surprises might be awaiting them. Kerul Talyn, for one, had eluded them.

Han, Wedge and Jak spent time searching the enclosure and the slope beneath the cliff, but there was no sign of anyone else. Whoever had made it off on Jak's speeder bike didn't look like he was coming back, but whether it'd been Talyn or Evlar, Han couldn't say.

Wes had strapped an extra blaster round his hips, and had melted off into the darkness, intent on bringing one of their borrowed swoops back to the enclosure.

Han was starting to feel something close to desperation, and the dense atmosphere was adding to his feelings of claustrophobia. It'd been just too many hours since Luke had vanished, and Han's mind was struggling to avoid the precarious terrain of his imagination. If Talyn was heading back to Luke, with all his plans gone to hell...

And things still didn't make sense. Whatever the circumstances that had led to Evlar's group turning up just minutes after their own arrival, it was best to play it as cautiously as possible. Han had begun to wonder just who to trust before – but the odds of someone tracking their every move had seemed far too high. Now he'd had to revise his opinion of those, too.

They decided, once more, against contacting the Jarodine military for that very reason. But Han's anxiety needed some outlet, and his gut reactions told him Linu Vilafii was definitely on their side.

"I can get hold of Elina," Jak said. "She'll find Linu and get her to the com-console, or at least let her know what's happened."

"Make sure she tells Judd to go carefully when he gets there."

Han left Jak to contact Elina Breya, and went off to find Wedge. The Rogue leader was dividing his time between scanning the area with the electrobinoculars, and checking up on Wes's progress.

"How's he doing?" Han asked.

"He's about half way there. No sign of anyone along the way." Wedge gestured to the plot beyond the window. "No sign of anyone out there either."

"I'll take over for a bit," Han suggested. He had to do something to occupy his mind, and he wasn't sure just how much more of this sitting around he could stand. The problem was, he didn't have a clue where to go from here. Talyn could've taken Luke just about anywhere. They could search the whole planet and not find him.

Han tugged at his collar, hoping to find a whisper of cooler air, and ran the binoculars over the plots. Focused again on the oddly luminous, pale flowers that someone had put to such a bizarre and sinister purpose. Jak's words came back to him _...someone comes along and takes things..._

A slight ripple of movement caught his eye. It could've been nothing. Just the breeze catching on stems and leaves. Except there was no breeze. Carefully, he slid down from the ledge, landed silently on his feet and edged to the door.

Keeping once again to the shadows he made his way over to the plot and sank down low, listening. The scent of the flowers was very strong – almost overbearing in such close proximity – and he could just make out the savage thorns along the stems. He wiped a sweaty palm down the side of his jacket, before closing his hand back round his blaster.

The sharp kick to his wrist took him by surprise, and he felt his weapon spin from his grip.

"Get up."

Slowly, Han pulled himself to his knees. Stood up. Turned round.

The man stood a few feet away, his blaster trained unwaveringly on Han. There was only one person it could be.

"Evlar?"

"Shut up and listen. I don't know what you're doing here, but I've come for two things. My friends, and Druso. I'm not leaving here without them, and if that involves killing you then I promise you that's how it'll be."

Han shrugged. "I don't know where they are."

"Then you're as good as dead." Evlar flicked a lever on his blaster. In that instant, Han dived for the ground, but somebody else moved first. Evlar gave a harsh gasp of pain as his blaster fell from his hand, dislodged by the swift kick. Han grabbed the blaster, leveling it at the scene before him. In the dark, it was impossible to distinguish one from the other as the two men fought. The combat was hand-to-hand, vicious and brutal. Evlar was good, but his opponent was better. When Evlar crashed to the ground, barely conscious, Han helped him on his way with a stun blast from Evlar's own weapon.

"Thanks," Luke said breathlessly.

"No problem," Han managed, too astounded and full of emotion to produce so much as a grin.

Luke started to walk over, his step faltering slightly. Han was there instantly, placing steadying hands on Luke's shoulders.

"Hey," he muttered. "Where d'ya go?"

"Oh, around," Luke smiled. "I'd have joined you earlier, but I got a bit held up."

"Yeah, I noticed. You've missed most of it."

"Didn't wanna spoil your fun. I know how much you enjoy a good fight."

"From where I was sat, looked like you were doin' most of the fighting."

"I'm sure there's more to come."

"Ain't there always?"

Luke started to lower himself to the ground, far too cautiously for Han's liking. Han gripped Luke's arms, moving to the ground with him.

He stared at Luke for a few seconds, part of his mind registering the strange sensation that the dark and airless night now felt like glorious midday sun on Corellia. He swallowed, and tried to speak normally. "I don't believe this. How can you be...?" He took a deep breath, delayed reaction setting in, forcing his words out in a jumbled rush. "Hell, Luke... I got it all wrong. Didn't know where to look. When I found out who'd taken you, it was too late. I wasted so much time, not knowing where you were. I thought, if he'd..."

Luke slid a hand up to Han's face. "I know," he said softly. "But he didn't. And there's no way you could've known where to go."

"But if I'd worked it out sooner... Everything was pointing here. Seemed the obvious place to come. But as soon as I saw Jak, I knew he hadn't done anything."

"I think you've always known that."

Han nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe. But I–"

"Tell me about Jak," Luke asked quickly. "You found him here? Is he okay?"

"Just about."

"So who is that guy?" Luke asked, with a sideways glance at Evlar.

"Haric Evlar, the major's brother. Leader of the Swelvarne Front. I thought you'd know that. Didn't you–" Han broke off, having noticed that the warmth of Luke's hand was offset by the chill edge of metal. He gripped Luke's wrist, examining the steel cuff in silence.

After a long moment, he looked up. "What did he do to you?"

Luke shook his head. "Nothing, really."

Han held both Luke's wrists up. "These don't look like nothing to me. If he–"

Luke stopped him. "It's okay. It wasn't... like before."

Han moved his hands to frame Luke's face, needing to know everything but conscious of the hesitancy in Luke's manner. Emotionally, they'd been here before, and Han still wasn't sure how to proceed. "You can see okay? That stuff – Doctor Vilafii told me it'd be alright."

"I can see just fine."

Luke's answers were failing to reassure Han, and he traced his fingertips gently over the injuries on Luke's face, noting that marks from the fight with Evlar overlaid other, recently inflicted, bruises.

"Probably looks worse than it is," Luke murmured.

Han shook his head. "With you it's always the other way round. You'll let me know about the visible stuff, but the rest of it..."

Luke smiled lightly, but Han caught the shadow that passed behind his eyes, clear acceptance of the truth of the remark. He looked away intently into the plots, impatient with his inability to accept only the parts of Luke that Luke was willing to give him.

Luke's hand curled round Han's cheek, urging him back. Han tore his eyes away from the darkness to meet Luke's gaze again.

"We'll sort it out. I promise you," Luke said.

As a moment for making declarations, it had its drawbacks, Han thought. More so when there were a million and one things they should've been talking about instead. But then when had they ever done anything normally?

"I guess I want more than you want to give."

"No. All the things you want – I want them too." He hesitated. "I meant what I said on Maronia. About explaining things. It's just that there's been no real time to talk. Other things have got in the way."

It was true – there'd been no time before and there still wasn't any. Yet Han didn't need lengthy explanations and in-depth detail right now. Nor did he want to invade Luke's privacy and demand to know his every thought. He just wanted to believe that Luke would no longer feel he needed to shut him out.

He held Luke's gaze for a few moments longer. "If I'd lost you..."

Luke smiled at him again. "That wasn't part of my plans. And anyway, haven't you realized something by now? I'm always gonna come back."

They both moved at the same time, coming together for a kiss that Han tried to keep cautious on account of Luke's injuries. He didn't manage it, too overpowered by relief and amazement to hold himself in check. It was only the raspiness of Luke's breathing that made him pull away.

"You're hurting."

"A bit," Luke acknowledged.

It was odd, but that tiny admission of Luke's gave Han a genuine surge of hope, even though he knew 'a bit' hardly summed up how Luke must really be feeling. But it was the fact that Luke had said it at all that counted. Han had expected the usual dismissal, and instead he'd been given a real indication that Luke was looking for a way through that guard he'd built around himself. "Tell me," Han said.

"I will. But I need to know what's going on too. Is Jak still here?"

Han nodded. "We should get back there. Then we can talk."

Han hauled himself to his feet and pulled Luke up after him, but made no move towards the chalet. Instead, he put his arms around Luke and rested his cheek against the side of Luke's head. He closed his eyes for a long moment, still full of disbelief that Luke was back with him at all.

Han felt Luke's surprise before he heard the quiet but insistent voice behind him.

"Han?"

Han looked round. Wedge stood there, looking anxious, but grinning.

"Hey – everything okay?" Han asked.

"Just great if you don't count the fact you suddenly disappeared," Wedge returned. He looked at Luke, his grin widening. "Good to see you got here in the end. I won't say you're looking good."

Luke grinned back at him. "You don't look too hot yourself." He moved away from Han and gave Wedge a hug that was probably far too tight for comfort. "Did Maronia get too boring then?" he asked.

"Just fancied a change of scene," Wedge said. "Wes is here too."

Luke shook his head, baffled. "I think I need some explanations."

"What about him?" Wedge gestured to the still unconscious Evlar.

"We're takin' him with us," Han said. "When he comes round, I wanna have a word with him." He turned back to Luke. "By the way, you might want this back." He reached inside his jacket, withdrew Luke's lightsaber and threw it across. Luke caught it gratefully.

It was a struggle to get Evlar's unresponsive form back to the chalet. Han wanted to talk to him the moment he came round, and thought it'd be best to keep him apart from the others. Even carefully rehearsed stories had a habit of falling apart when told separately.

After they'd tied his arms and legs securely, they placed him on a bench where they could keep any eye on him.

Then they all glanced at each other, aware of the need to catch up and assess the situation.

Luke was leaning back against a wall, and Jak looked at him with curiosity.

"You're Luke Skywalker aren't you?" he asked. "What happened to you? How did Han find you?"

"I didn't," Han said, before Luke could reply. "He found me." He touched Luke's arm briefly, then moved away to find a chair.

Luke gave Jak a smile edged with a weariness he was clearly trying to hide. "I've heard a lot about you. It's good to meet you at last."

Jak returned the smile. "You too. Pity about the circumstances."

"Oh, these are just normal for Luke," Han said dryly, returning with the chair. "You might wanna sit down," he said to Luke. "I've got a feeling this is all gonna take some time to explain."

"I just hope there _is_ time," Luke replied, the warmth of his gaze acknowledging Han's gesture.

Han gave him a slightly disconcerted look before the rest of them sat too, sinking down onto cushioned benches and just beginning to realize how much the events of this long night had taken out of them.

"But his plans have failed haven't they?" Han asked. "I mean you got away. Talyn's gonna assume we've got back-up coming, and he's on his own now. I don't think he's gonna come back here once he's discovered you're missing. 'Course, he'll know we'll be after him."

Luke shook his head, puzzled. "Talyn? You mean the interrogator?"

Han frowned. "Yeah. Didn't you know his name?"

"I've heard a lot about him," Luke said. He glanced at Jak, whose expression was unreadable. "He was here? This lot you've got locked up in the bunker – they're all the Swelvarne Front group? Are they involved with Talyn in some way?"

Han nodded, but the frown that'd started a moment ago had deepened. "Are you sayin' it wasn't Talyn who took you?"

Luke stared at him. "I thought you said you knew who it was."

"No... Yeah... When I saw Talyn, it all kinda clicked. Thought it had to be him."

A distinct uneasiness had replaced the confusion in Luke's expression, and Han began to get the uncomfortable suspicion that he was in for another unwelcome surprise.

"When you didn't ask... I didn't know how much you knew. But no, it wasn't Talyn." Luke hesitated, casting another troubled glance at Jak. "It was Velerrin."

Nobody said anything for several long seconds. Jak's face seemed to close up, leaving it devoid of any discernible emotion. Finally, Han spoke, denial and disbelief heavy in his voice.

"Velerrin's been dead for ten years. You've gotta be mistaken."

"No," Luke said quietly. "There's no mistake."


	19. Chapter 19

### Sebrara, 13 years ago

Captain Terrin Velerrin watched the proceedings from behind the armored viewport of his shuttle. The noise, even inside the ship, was deafening. A group of Wookiee slaves was maneuvering a massive beam drill into place, and the grinding, crunching sound of tons of moving metal ripped through the air. Once in position, the drill would be used to cut the giant durasteel girders for the assembly bays.

Sebrara was going to be a glorious achievement. One that would make all the years of subterfuge and hiding behind Tarkin's shadow worth it. The yard would be at the forefront of ship manufacture, with an output matching that of Kuat. And Velerrin, supervising part of the operation from the _Dictator_ , would make a name for himself independent of Tarkin.

His visits to the planet's surface were becoming more frequent. His official reason for this was that it kept the workers on their toes. But Velerrin had a more specific purpose for his regular descents from the _Dictator_. As he gazed out at the activity around him, Velerrin's hands clenched involuntarily into fists, and his breathing quickened. What was meant to be a straightforward task had turned into something else and taken on a life of its own. The young lieutenant he was now watching invoked complex feelings within him, not least of which was anger. But even though Velerrin could recognize his growing obsession, he was powerless to prevent it. His grievances against Solo had begun to dictate his actions.

Velerrin could pinpoint the precise moment when Han Solo had begun to blight his life, and it dated to well before the cadet was posted aboard the _Dictator_. Although Velerrin hadn't met Solo until the Corellian had joined his crew, he'd known his name for years. The past eight years in fact. From the time when Velerrin had become more deeply enmeshed in Tarkin's plans. From the time of the Druso affair.

It was common knowledge that Tarkin was ambitious, but the manner in which he intended to further his objectives was known only to a select few. Velerrin was one of them. He knew that Tarkin's loyalty to the Emperor went only as far as it was useful. As Governor of the Outer Rim, Tarkin might've seemed too far out of the galaxy's central power core to exert any great influence, but in subjugating those territories that Palpatine had little control over, he'd gained a reputation that ensured his meteoric rise through the ranks.

It'd also enabled Tarkin to remain out of sight of those who might otherwise have been suspicious of him, and it was there in the wilds of the Outer Rim Territories that Tarkin had begun to build up a secret database that was to be his investment for the future. This included the clandestine recruitment of three individuals. Sworn to secrecy, and never knowing the identities of the others, they'd worked for Tarkin in return for the promise of future reward.

When Tarkin had first approached him he'd been Sub-Lieutenant Velerrin, and a member of one of Tarkin's Outer Rim Squads. The specialist units, responsible for eliminating dissent in the Territories, had made good use of his varied skills. Tarkin had been impressed with Velerrin's loyalty to the Empire's ideals, and also with his streak of ruthlessness that matched Tarkin's own. But more importantly, Velerrin had certain skills that Tarkin needed. He was an expert computer technician and code analyst.

Tarkin had set out to convince him that it was in both their interests that Velerrin not use these qualities to further his Imperial career. Computer experts were highly regarded, but it was a risky job, due primarily to the levels of paranoia everywhere. Being privy to the galaxy's secrets was to be placed under immediate suspicion of complicity. Tarkin had told Velerrin that he'd be better off biding his time and working his way up through the ranks.

Velerrin had agreed, his mind on suitable recompense. Secretly, he'd begun the extensive task of researching the Empire's vast electronic databanks, acquiring information and files to create the foundations of Tarkin's alternative power base. It was an exceptionally dangerous task for Velerrin, but not a difficult one, and Velerrin could see in it the potential for personal power. But then something had happened to disrupt the smooth progress of his plans. Tarkin had asked him to lead the raid on the Druso laboratories on Corellia.

Velerrin had known there'd been more than one agenda behind that raid. He recalled the gleam of fanaticism in Tarkin's eye when he'd first shown Velerrin a hologram of the Death Star plans. When Tarkin had learned of the so-called Druso Toxin, he'd instantly seen it as a threat to his future dominance. In order not to have his power diminished by an alternative weapon that would be wielded by scientists, Tarkin had worked fast.

"I've put someone in place," Tarkin had told him. "Someone who understands the benefits of cooperation. If it becomes necessary, she'll give us evidence of the Drusos' treason."

Velerrin had laughed. Cooperation, in its very loosest sense, was something Tarkin found easy to obtain. For small tasks that required someone expendable, there was always something the Empire could find to exert a degree of pressure. At the time, Velerrin hadn't bothered to wonder what form that pressure took, nor why Tarkin had taken such a risk.

In addition, Tarkin had begun to undermine the Emperor's faith in the Drusos by hinting of rumors linking the Drusos with the Rebellion. The Emperor's mistrust had been easy to feed, and Tarkin was ordered to raid the Prystyn laboratories.

The reason for Velerrin's involvement had been obvious. Tarkin wanted access to everything the Drusos had been working on. Knowledge was power, particularly if it was knowledge that no one else possessed. So before wiping the databanks of the lab computers clean, as instructed by the Emperor, Velerrin had secretly copied everything and added it into Tarkin's expanding database. The Drusos had been arrested, and it hadn't even been necessary to manufacture proof of their treason. It'd become obvious under torture that they _were_ involved with the Rebellion. But despite prolonged interrogation, they'd given nothing away of any value.

If his plan had worked, Tarkin would've had possession of the toxin formula and ridded himself of the Drusos once and for all. But they'd failed to take account of that one, supposedly insignificant, person.

Whatever the hold Tarkin thought he'd had over Bereljia Kovo, he'd been mistaken. She'd double-crossed them, and in the short space of time she'd had between learning of the raid and the appearance of the stormtrooper squad, Kovo had disappeared. And she'd taken two vital things with her. A crucial part of the toxin formula, and the Drusos' son, Jerik...

Velerrin broke off his thoughts to study Solo through the viewport. He wondered if his feelings for the lieutenant would still be so antagonistic if wasn't for Solo's participation in the Druso business. The answer was almost certainly yes. Solo stood for everything he despised. He possessed an arrogant self-confidence and air of disrespect that didn't belong in a junior officer. And there was the issue of how he'd managed to find his way into the Academy. Officially, this was down to his supposed flying skills, but Velerrin's misgivings pointed to an entirely different scenario. Because not only had he been involved with Druso, he'd also known Kovo. And out of all the Imperial ships in the Empire's fleet, he'd been posted on the _Dictator_.

"Coincidence", Tarkin had said. "Solo's just a lowlife who's wandered in on something he has no knowledge of." In the same breath, he'd also ordered Velerrin to stay away from the Corellian. Revealing any familiarity with what'd happened at Ghandine would be dangerous if that information reached the wrong ears.

But old suspicions died hard, and Velerrin couldn't help but wonder just why Tarkin had come up with such compelling reasons for leaving Solo alone. And Velerrin didn't believe in coincidence.

He'd complied with the order though. After all, he had his safety to consider. To resist the lure of questioning Solo, Velerrin had put him on duty managing the squads overseeing the Wookiee slaves. Velerrin had considered the posting more punishment than reward, but infuriatingly, Solo hadn't seen it that way. The lieutenant had developed an affinity with the Wookiees, and showed them a measure of respect that Velerrin found hard to stomach. Solo also understood the barbaric grunts that passed for speech amongst the Wookiees – an unforgivable offence in Velerrin's opinion.

A deafening clang made his entire shuttle vibrate. The Wookiees had mistimed the lowering of a girder and sent it crashing into the wall of an inspection pit. Velerrin shook his head with irritation. Clumsy savages. He watched their efforts to right the girder with derision, noting with approval that two of his squad had moved in to hurry them up. One of the troopers jabbed at a slave with his blaster – nobody had any time for slackers, Velerrin least of all. Insolently, the Wookiee stopped working and stood up to stare at the trooper. There was a brief, angry exchange, none of which Velerrin could hear, but which led to the trooper striking the Wookiee hard across the chest with the butt of his blaster. Velerrin watched with disbelief as Solo intervened – not to discipline the creature as he ought to, but to remonstrate with the trooper. With increasing fury, he watched Solo shove his hand hard against the trooper's breastplate, pushing him backwards away from the Wookiees. It was simply too much, and Velerrin stormed out of his shuttle to take control.

"Solo," he hissed, striving to keep his voice under control. "Perhaps you'd have the courtesy to explain just what's going on here?"

"There was an accident with a girder, which was being sorted out. Sir," Solo replied. The slight hesitation before the 'sir' did not escape Velerrin, and he felt his temper rise another couple of notches.

"Just whose side do you presume you're on?" he asked.

"I thought the trooper used unnecessary force, and took action to avoid further aggression."

"I see." Velerrin stared at Solo. The lieutenant's face was impassive, but Velerrin was convinced Solo found the whole business amusing in some way. It was well past time to make a stand. He signaled to the two troopers, who moved up, ready to take orders.

"Savages like these," Velerrin waved his hand at the Wookiees, "understand only one form of discipline. I think you'll find I have a better way to end any further aggression down here."

He spoke to the troopers. "Put binders on that one, and lock it in one of the cages."

Velerrin turned back to Solo, who was, gratifyingly, showing signs of uneasiness. "Tomorrow we'll have a small demonstration to show just what happens to slaves who fail to give proper respect. And maybe it'll make you think a little harder next time you feel the need to wallow in misguided sentimentality."

***

### Present day

Luke paused and rubbed at his eyes wearily, drawing an anxious frown from Han. He'd been talking for some time, and was beginning to feel the strain of it. His throat, still raw from the side-effects of Velerrin's knock-out drug, was making speech difficult. And now he'd had the chance to slow down and think, he realized that everything still hurt. The dull ache in his head that'd never subsided had increased to an insistent pounding, and breathing was an exertion made worse by the thick humidity. The effort of keeping going was starting to wear him down.

He'd told them briefly how he'd managed to escape, and explained what he'd done with Velerrin. Then he'd moved on to Velerrin's story. It'd been complex and confusing to follow, because Velerrin had continually wandered off on tangents that made little sense to Luke. Now, Luke was trying to describe the events he'd heard about in the order in which Velerrin had told them. That way he wouldn't leave anything out. But it was taking time, and he wasn't sure just how much of that there was. There was a whole side to this business that Velerrin had withheld from him, and the uncertainty of it all was making him edgy.

Han, Jak and Wedge had listened to him in silence, Han gazing off towards the window. He'd looked almost nonchalant throughout, but Luke had noted the too tight grip of his hand on the arm of the bench, and could sense the anger barely held in check.

At first, Jak had displayed no sign of any emotion whatsoever, but when Luke had described Velerrin's raid on the Druso labs, he'd cast his eyes downwards, ostensibly studying his hands.

As Luke fell silent, Han got up and walked over to study the still unconscious Evlar. There was no need, but Luke guessed he wanted an excuse to do something, to gain a few seconds necessary breathing space.

Moments later, Luke felt Han's hand come down on his shoulder and he leaned back into it, closing his eyes for just a few seconds.

"You oughta rest," Han said. "Wes is gonna be back with a swoop any minute now. Soon as he gets here, I'm gonna take you to the transport and back to Taramine."

Luke shook his head. "We need to get back to Velerrin. I can't rest until we've got him sorted out. When Wes gets here we can take the swoop and find Velerrin's speeder bike. I left it back in the jungle."

"Velerrin ain't goin' anywhere in a hurry from what you've told us," Han argued, " 'n you're in no fit state to go anywhere either, 'cept the medcenter."

"I'll have to show you where he is. You'd never find it otherwise. And there's something else going on. That's why I need to tell you everything first. So we can all be ready."

"Ready for what?" Wedge asked.

Luke shrugged. "Wish I knew. Did you let the Jarodine military know you were coming here?"

"No. We decided not to. We're channeling communication to Judd through Jak's assistant and Doctor Vilafii," Wedge explained.

"Dunno who the hell to trust anymore," Han added. "The Taramine base knew we were here. If Velerrin paid someone to throw that stuff at you, he could've paid a whole lot of others too. So until Judd gets here, I guess we're on our own."

Luke nodded. His instincts told him the same thing.

"We oughta let the medcenter know we've found you. Take another load off their minds." Han glanced at Wedge. "D'you agree?"

"It'd be good if we could get an update," Wedge replied. "Judd should be here anytime now. And we could do with some back-up."

Luke shifted in the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. He felt Han's thumb moving against his neck with a gentle, circling motion. "You've still gotta rest," Han murmured.

Jak spoke for the first time since learning that Velerrin was still alive. "Your injuries – I could do something to help. I don't have bacta, but I've got other stuff."

"What, home-made potions?" Han asked.

Jak smiled. "They're quite safe."

"Thanks," Luke said, "That'd be good. But let me finish telling you about Velerrin first. Although if you've got anything for a headache..."

Han made a noise halfway between disbelief and amusement. "So – someone throws a knock-out drug at you with acid mixed in it for good measure. Then you get chained to the floor for two days by that freakin' maniac, who keeps you drugged to the eyeballs in between beating you up. Then it's a nice trip back through a swamp full of poisonous bugs, and a fist fight with that muscleman over there. And you've got a _headache_?"

"Yeah, well..." Luke said, twisting his head slightly and letting his cheek brush the side of Han's hand. It felt unbelievably good to have that small, reassuring contact after everything that'd happened. The fact that Han hadn't moved away, even though he must've been exhausted too, showed Han needed it just as much.

Jak got up and disappeared into an adjoining room. They could hear him rummaging around.

"This is getting worse by the minute," Wedge said.

"Yeah," Han agreed. "And you know what? Velerrin's got a helluva lot to answer for." He glanced across at Jak who'd reappeared in the doorway. "And I say we've got quite a few scores to settle with him."

Jak didn't reply, but walked over and handed Luke a small glass of frothy liquid. "Drink this – it'll help."

"Thanks." Luke took the glass gratefully, recalling how Velerrin had used almost those exact same words after Luke had woken up and found himself a prisoner. But he wasn't about to mention that to Jak.

"Did Velerrin find out what Tarkin's hold over Bereljia was?" Han's too-casual tone was a clear indication to Luke of how difficult it'd been for him to ask.

"He told me she'd betrayed Tarkin, but not why Tarkin thought she'd be loyal in the first place. But something happened to make Velerrin suspect Tarkin of lying–"

"It was to do with her mother," Jak interrupted. "Tarkin thought she'd want to protect her mother above anything else."

"Her mother was dead though," Han said, confused. "She died when Bereljia was a child."

Jak shook his head slowly. "No." He looked between Han, Luke and Wedge. "We all do it to some extent don't we? Make up stories, alter the facts, hide away the worst of our nightmares. Not just 'cause we don't like talking about it, but to protect people we care about." He gave them all an apologetic smile that didn't quite work. "The Empire did it too of course, but their intentions were completely different. Whole families had their lives destroyed because of it."

There was a long moment of silence before Luke spoke. "Yes," he said, "the Empire was very good at doing that."


	20. Chapter 20

### Sebrara, 13 years ago

Returning to the _Dictator_ , Velerrin felt a warm glow of satisfaction brought about by the look of shocked comprehension he'd seen in Solo's eyes. He was confident he'd get no further protest from him – with two verbal warnings for insubordination under his belt, Solo only needed one more before he'd face a disciplinary hearing.

"Captain, may I have a word please?"

Velerrin sighed with irritation and turned to face the Coruscant Intelligence observer. "I'm busy. Will it take long?"

Kerul Talyn shook his head. "No, only a moment. I've been thinking – you have several squads down at the shipyard, all supervised by your own officers. Presumably you keep in touch with these officers via the usual communication channels? So I'm just a little curious – what is it that takes you down there in person every day?"

Velerrin frowned with irritation. Talyn's reason for being on his ship was to review communications security. How Velerrin chose to oversee his crew hardly fell under that brief.

"Since when is a commanding officer required to explain his leadership methods to a Coruscant administrator?"

Talyn looked back at him, seemingly unperturbed. "When that commanding officer acts in a manner not quite as expected. Or if there's reason to believe some personal concerns might be detrimentally affecting an officer's judgment."

There was a slight delay before Talyn continued. "Hypothetically speaking of course. Where you're concerned, I wasn't seeking an explanation – just hoping to satisfy a mild curiosity."

"Well would it satisfy you to know that I like to take an informed and active interest in the performance of my crew? We have a tight schedule to meet here, which is why I don't have time to stand around talking."

"Of course," Talyn murmured. "My apologies."

 

That night, Velerrin smiled to himself in the privacy of his quarters. There'd been a number of irritations during the day – primarily the arrogance of the Coruscant thug whose presence he had to endure. However, the look of apprehension he'd brought to Solo's face more than made up for that. And tomorrow was a day to look forward to. The execution of the Wookiee troublemaker would be highly satisfying. It would serve a twofold purpose. First, to emphasize that the Empire took subversive behavior seriously, and secondly, to underline the fact that Solo had failed to supervise adequately the Wookiee workforce. In fact, tomorrow might also be a good day to transfer Solo to a new position.

He recalled the day when Solo had first reported for duty aboard the _Dictator_. Velerrin had felt a sharp excitement, wondering if, after eight years of trying, he'd get to uncover more of the truth surrounding the incident with the Druso boy. Of course, 'boy' was hardly an appropriate description now, because Jerik Druso would be the same age as Solo, providing he still lived. But he'd been a boy when Velerrin had lost him, and both he and Tarkin still referred to him as such. Velerrin was also prepared to bet everything he owned that the Empire had kept Druso alive.

It was impossible to believe that Solo hadn't been up to his neck in the whole Ghandine business, but how deep his involvement ran was difficult to determine. Velerrin had interviewed Solo at the first opportunity, trying to balance his need to know with the equal necessity of discretion. The orders from Tarkin to stay away were still ringing in his ears when he'd broached the subject of Solo's incomplete datafile...

_"There's a gap in your file, Solo."_

_"Sir?"_

_"You left Corellia when you were 14. You joined the crew of a cargo freighter running supplies through the Corellian Sector when you were sixteen. You've listed various activities following that up until your enlistment at Carida. But there's still one year unaccounted for."_

_"I didn't think it was important, sir. And the Academy didn't ask."_

_The security of the ship and integrity of its crew was reason enough to question Solo further. "I decide what's important Lieutenant, and I'm asking now. I don't want to discover that a member of my crew has been involved in something unsuitable. Hidden pasts can lead to the wrong sort of conclusions."_

_Solo shook his head. "I'm not hiding anything sir."_

_"Then explain the gap."_

_There was a momentary delay before Solo spoke. "I worked on Ghandrellia for a year."_

_"Worked where?"_

_"Ghandine. In the Klathorne-Raad factory. It's a big metals production place. I was a machine operator."_

_"And your real reasons for not mentioning this?"_

_"They were personal, sir."_

_Velerrin frowned. "Let's get one thing straight Lieutenant Solo. Everything about you is my business, including things you might consider personal. I want no hint of any past activities that I consider out of place for anyone serving on my ship."_

_Solo hesitated again, and Velerrin tensed in anticipation._

_"A friend of mine was killed there. I prefer not to talk about it, that's all. It's in the past now."..._

The fact that Solo's story had matched the information Velerrin had retrieved on the Ghandine incident didn't mean a thing. Solo was as capable of learning a story as anyone else. And he'd had long enough to practice it.

Velerrin thought back to the difficult weeks that followed the raid on the Druso labs. Tarkin had been livid with rage that the boy had managed to evade them, and initially blamed Velerrin for the mistake. But the fact was, Tarkin had still needed Velerrin. He'd also wanted Jerik Druso – just as much as the Emperor did.

It was the Emperor's personal intelligence squad who'd taken on the task of searching for the boy. Tarkin and Velerrin had conducted their own, secret, hunt but Palpatine's team had found Druso first, giving the fickle Emperor a second opportunity to manufacture the toxin if he so wished.

When news of Druso's capture in Ghandine had reached Tarkin, he'd ordered Velerrin to discover all he could. At that time, the Empire couldn't even let someone breathe without recording the fact in its datafiles, which was to the advantage of a good computer slicer. After hacking into the heavily encoded files on the Ghandrellia assignment, he'd come across Solo's name for the first time. The files detailed the entire incident right up to the moment that Marcar's ship left Ghandine with Druso on board. Solo, who'd been instrumental in the disappearance of Druso from the Klathorne-Raad factory, should've been disposed of immediately. Interestingly, somebody had overruled that order, and Solo had left on a ship belonging to the Corellian captain, Ferim Saguno. The surface reasoning behind this odd lapse in security became clear when Velerrin subsequently broke into the files of the Genetic Research Foundation.

The GRF thought itself above everyone else, so it followed that it hadn't done its own dirty work. After Druso had claimed no knowledge of his parents' toxin they'd handed the boy over to one of Coruscant's interrogation units. The traditional methods of gaining cooperation hadn't worked, and Druso had turned out to be much tougher than he'd first appeared. So they'd tried a more subtle approach.

There'd been nothing complicated about it. It was simply a matter of making the prisoner feel increasingly isolated over a period of time. With only their interrogators for company, prisoners often opened up in order to break through the barrier of loneliness. During a prisoner's lowest moments of despair, extending a hand of 'friendship' could bring the desired results.

In Druso's case, he'd had no remaining family and just one friend, whom he'd trusted implicitly. The interrogator had set out to undermine Druso's faith in all the things he'd previously believed in, even providing holocam footage of Solo leaving Saguno's ship on Corellia.

According to the files, Druso had been resistant to any insinuations of betrayal, but everybody was like that at first. In time, alongside drugs, sleep deprivation and pain, even the strongest-willed individuals saw the error of their ways and began to question where their loyalties lay.

But Velerrin didn't know how Druso had fared in the end, because it was then that he'd lost track of the boy. Somebody had removed all mention of the Druso affair from the imperial databanks and the files of the GRF, and the Genetic Research Foundation had relocated to a secret base that Velerrin had so-far failed to find. He still had his copies of the original files but, as far he could determine, Druso and the GRF had simply vanished.

Velerrin sat for a few moments in silent contemplation. He was no closer now to finding Druso than he had been eight years back, and he was still as much in the dark over the missing pieces of the puzzle. Something told him that he had most of the elements, and that they included Solo, Bereljia Kovo and Tarkin himself. But he couldn't work out how they fitted together.

It was a problem that would have to wait. In the meantime, he still had his orders and he had a small task to perform.

Earlier in the day the Kuat Drive Yards had transmitted, under high security, the design for a new capital ship. The ship was to be prototyped at Sebrara, but certain details of its construction were to remain confidential.

Velerrin made his way down to the bowels of the ship. There were transmission consoles on all decks, as well as one in his private quarters, but Velerrin was careful to avoid any possible connection to himself. And he never used the same terminal twice. 

At the keypad of a computer, Velerrin felt himself transform. As his fingers flew in familiar patterns, he relaxed the rigid discipline that kept him at a distance from his crew. Code manufacture was an art-form, and Velerrin excelled at it. Within minutes, the new and top-secret plans to the star cruiser had found their roundabout way into Tarkin's ever-increasing stash of stolen information. He spent a further minute erasing his tracks from the console. Not that anyone could ever trace anything back to him – he was far too good for that.

A last look around left Velerrin satisfied. He hit the door mechanism to leave.

"Interesting to find you here, Captain."

Velerrin stared at Talyn, taking several seconds to recover his poise.

"I'm free to use whatever area of the ship I wish Commander."

"But a com-console tucked away down here? I'd have thought it easier to use the equipment in your own quarters, or that on the bridge?"

Before Velerrin could answer, his comlink beeped. Talyn waited, looking perfectly composed, as Velerrin spoke.

"Yes?"

The voice that came back over the comlink held a clear note of anxiety.

"Sir – we've lost the Wookiees."

Velerrin frowned. "Lost them?"

"They've disappeared sir."

Velerrin breathed out heavily with impatience. "Be more precise man. What's going on?"

"Sorry sir. The ground crew's doing its security round. The troopers went to check on the Wookiee enclosure but none of them are there. Looks like they've escaped."

"And the one held in the punishment cage?"

"That one's gone too, sir."

"Get Lieutenant Solo on a communications channel," Velerrin snapped. "I'll speak to him from the bridge."

"They haven't been able to find him either. He's disappeared."

***

### Present day

A muffled groan came from the bench against the back wall.

"Looks like it's time to tell Evlar he's sided with the wrong guy," Han said. Together with Wedge, he moved quickly across to where Evlar was struggling to sit upright. Wedge withdrew his blaster as Han removed the ropes from Evlar's wrists and ankles.

Luke watched Han for a moment, noting how he seemed full of a renewed sense of purpose. Now Han had absorbed the implications of Luke's disclosures, it was as though he'd finally seen something that made sense. That Velerrin had set about actively seeking some form of retribution had shocked Han, but Luke knew that it was at least comprehensible to him. Attributing those same actions to Jak, as Han had tried to do before, must've seemed totally nonsensical. And maybe Han saw this as an opportunity that he'd once believed closed for good. A chance to seek justice for Velerrin's earlier activities.

Luke hauled himself out of the chair and went to join the others.

 

"I wasn't gonna kill him," Evlar insisted. "You didn't have to hit me so hard." He felt his jaw, where a large bruise was blossoming.

"Sorry," Luke said. "There wasn't a lot of time to ask questions."

Evlar gave an apologetic grin. "I guess not. But seriously, it was just a bluff."

"What would you have done with me if you'd found me?" Jak asked. He was standing slightly apart from the rest of them, leaning against the doorframe of the back room.

"I wasn't gonna hand you over to Talyn. I didn't trust him. I'm pretty sure he was planning to get rid of us once we'd helped him get you. I wasn't gonna let that happen."

"So _what_ then?" Jak persisted.

Evlar rubbed at his jaw again. "Talyn spun us a whole load of lies. He told us you'd been an imperial scientist. Said you'd developed a new type of weapon that you were gonna sell on to whoever offered you the most. Talyn claimed to have the group's interests at heart – if we joined in his plan, we'd have a chance to bargain with something more effective than our usual methods."

"Terrorism then," Jak said.

"Hey – it's been a big mistake. It'd never've got to that. I was thinking in terms of a bit of persuasion. We're not interested in killing people."

"Just threatening them," Luke pointed out.

Evlar raised his hands in admission. "It was stupid, I agree. It seemed like an easy job, and I'd worked out how I was gonna play it. But then you lot got here first, and before we knew it we were in too deep."

Han gave a derisive laugh. "You're still in too deep. We've got Talyn running loose somewhere, and another crackpot to deal with who's set on poisoning everyone in the whole goddamn galaxy one by one. And you and your sidekicks are all in it up to your necks."

"Okay – I accept that. Can we move on? I'll help out in whatever way I can."

Han nodded. "Glad you said that. Didn't wanna make a mess in here."

Evlar flexed his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness resulting from his fight with Luke. "What happens now?"

"We tell you something else you need to know," Han said. "You've been sold out. And I don't mean by Talyn."

"What're you talking about?" Evlar frowned.

"A friend of yours didn't like your plans. Decided to take 'em to the Fiore military."

"No way."

Wedge took over from Han, and Evlar's skepticism turned to bemusement as he listened to the explanation about the datacard.

"We kept the details in our heads," he argued. "None of us are that stupid that we'd put it all on a datacard and then leave it lying around."

"The weird thing's the dates," Wedge said. "Did you alter the timings?"

"We didn't have timings. We had to wait for the signal from Talyn. We've been stuck on Jarodine a couple of days waiting for the go-ahead. And anyway, that's not all that's wrong with it. Apart from Talyn and me, no-one else knew the scientist's name. So there's no way a datacard from any member of the Front's gonna show up with a name on it. It's you that's been had."

"Or maybe all of us," Han said, frowning.

Evlar shrugged. "Everything's worked out though. It's not as though anyone's been hurt. Except me." He cast a questioning glance at Luke. "Only... that's not all from the fight with me, is it?"

Luke shook his head. "No. And I don't think we're out of it yet either."

"But in the meantime, you're gonna go and have a little word with your friends," Han said to Evlar. "Tell 'em exactly what's what with Talyn."

"Will there be a problem with that?" Luke asked.

"No – no problem." Evlar slid his legs off the bench and stood, wincing slightly as he did so.

"I'll come with you," Wedge said. "Just for the walk of course."

"Sure," Evlar grinned. "But there won't be any trouble. You've got my word."

"Seem to remember you promising _me_ I was as good as dead," Han growled.

Evlar's grin grew wider. "Yeah, but there's a difference between a promise and a _real_ promise."

 

"I should finish telling you about Velerrin," Luke said, after Evlar and Wedge had set off for the outbuilding.

"There's no way you're gonna say another word unless you let Jak look at those injuries," Han said. "There's gotta be time for that, and we can't do anything till Wes gets back."

Luke hesitated, torn between the need to offload everything he'd learned, and the realization that he'd probably do a better job of explaining things if he wasn't so distracted by the nagging soreness everywhere.

"Okay. As long as it's quick. I wish I could get rid of these cuffs though." He held his wrists up, showing a few links of severed chain still attached to the steel bands.

Han considered them. "I could blast 'em off."

"Er, thanks, but I'd like to keep my hands if it's all the same to you."

Luke had said it lightly and with no intentional allusions to anything else, but the remark produced a momentary stillness in Han. It was another reminder of issues that still stood between them. Luke gave Han a small, private smile that he hoped went some way to dispelling the slight awkwardness the remark had produced.

Jak glanced between the two of them, looking puzzled. "I've got a beam cutter," he suggested. "Might do the trick. I'll go and look for it – it's in the other lab. That's where all my medical stuff is too, if you want to come with me."

"Sure," Luke said. He made as if to follow Jak, but Han touched his arm, holding him back.

"Wait a minute."

Luke stopped, but when Han didn't speak immediately he reached for one of Han's hands, examining it for a moment. "That stuff got on your hands?"

Han shrugged, dismissing it. "A bit." He linked his fingers with Luke's. "I wanna know how you're doing."

"I'm okay," Luke replied, knowing that Han hadn't said what he really wanted to say.

"That's the standard answer outta the way, so now you can tell me honestly."

"I've been better," Luke conceded, smiling. "But I'll be a lot happier when this is over."

"And I'll be a lot happier if I can get you to Vilafii. I'm gonna ask Jak to contact the medcenter. And Evlar's lot must've come in on something. I dunno where they've left their transport, but they've gotta have swoops, or speeders somewhere nearby–"

"I'm not going back there yet," Luke interrupted quietly. "I can't. I need to see this through. Just like you do."

Han gazed back at him before giving a small sigh. "I know. S'just – you've been through enough, 'n I just wanna say it."

Luke pulled Han up closer. "I've told you before, you can say anything you want to me. But that's not it, is it?"

Han frowned, his fingers gripping Luke's hand more tightly. "Velerrin should've taken me. I'm the one who's upset him. He should've left you out of it."

"It's not like that. Maybe once he'd have just gone for you. But he blames both of us for Tarkin's death."

"He'd have killed you if you hadn't escaped."

Luke shook his head. "I'd never've let it get that far. I had to discover as much as I could. In any case, he wanted to keep me alive. I just never found out why."

"Oh, I'm gonna ask him," Han said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "As soon as I get over to where you've left him–"

"As soon as _we_ get over there," Luke insisted. "And I don't think you'll be able to make Jak stay away either."

Han nodded. "Okay. I'm not gonna argue with you." 

Luke grinned. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I know what I've been like. Always on your back about not takin' risks. Decided I'm gonna stop bugging you about it."

"Then we'd just have to find something else to argue about." Luke moved his hand to slide it inside Han's jacket, letting it rest just above Han's hip. "Seriously though, I don't want you to think you have to change. And it's not just you is it? We both need to compromise. But you care, and that means more to me than anything."

"But it _is_ a problem," Han pointed out.

"I think we just argued as a way of avoiding the real issue. It's not easy, watching someone go off and wondering if they're gonna come back. And then you start thinking of all the things you should've said, and whether you'll ever get the chance to say them."

"And you reckon it'll be easier now?"

"Probably not," Luke admitted. "But maybe we just have to learn to come to terms with it. I don't know any other way."

"So we just carry on? Only without the arguing?"

"That'll never happen," Luke stated.

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, when one of us is the most argumentative, difficult, stubborn and impatient person alive, the odds are against us."

Han smirked. "Hey, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

"And when that same person's also prone to delusions..."

Han edged closer, working his way further into the reach of Luke's arm. "Like thinkin' they're models of patience..."

"... and flies off the handle for no real reason..."

"Yeah you do that sometimes," Han murmured. "Whereas me – I always have a very good reason for everything I do."

"Right," Luke said with a grin. "What about that time you kicked the _Falcon_ 's acceleration compensator circuit because it wasn't working, and it took us hours to mend the broken bit?"

"I was giving you the chance to show off your repair skills. Seem to remember you fixed it in the end."

"And how about when you told Mon Mothma you knew the way to the meeting hall for the Alliance celebration dinner, and we ended up missing it because you wouldn't admit we were lost?"

"We weren't lost," Han said. "We were takin' the scenic route. Ain't my fault if they weren't prepared to wait for us."

"And then there was the time you mislaid the access card to that A-wing I borrowed."

"Oh that. I hid that deliberately just so you'd have to come back with me on the _Falcon_."

Luke stared at him in surprise, trying to determine if Han was joking. "I don't believe you."

"Why d'you think the owners never got onto you about it? I returned the card – with your apologies."

"But... that was three years ago!"

Han nodded in agreement. "So you've got quite a lot to do to make up for all that lost time."

"What, just me?" Luke laughed.

"You're doing a pretty good job so far."

"What if I think you've got some making up to do?"

Han grinned. "I'm just waitin' for the opportunity."

***

Terrin Velerrin twisted round, feeling the bite of the synthrope against his skin. The sharp, abrasive burn was nothing in comparison to the boiling rage that'd been building up inside him since he'd discovered what Skywalker had done to him.

But after all the years spent feeding his anger against Solo, it was almost exhilarating to discover that he had plenty of emotion left to spare for others. And it was interesting to realize that hatred could be divided equally. One thing was certain. Skywalker was going to pay very dearly for this, and Velerrin was determined he'd have the pleasure of witnessing it. It'd go some way towards compensating him for the wreckage of his career.

Velerrin still recalled, with perfect clarity, the first time his life had fallen apart. It'd happened on that one eventful night on Sebrara thirteen years ago when Solo had released the Wookiees. It'd been an act of willful treason on Solo's part, and Velerrin had never been able to prove it.

He'd taken a shuttle and an extra squad down to the planet's surface. Kerul Talyn had insisted on accompanying him. There they'd found chaos. No sign of the Wookiees, and the supervising squad confused and leaderless. But then Solo had reappeared, flanked by a small search team. He'd been flushed and breathless, apologizing for the situation and his inability to find the escaped slaves. It'd been a total sham.

To Velerrin, the fiasco should've given him Solo's dismissal at the very least. Not only was Solo responsible, owing to his supervisory role, but Velerrin had known with absolute certainty that Solo had organized the escape. Yet incredibly, Talyn had seen nothing untoward in the lieutenant's behavior. He'd greeted Velerrin's suspicions with casual dismissal and claimed that Solo was simply inefficient.

Incensed, Velerrin had ordered another full search of the vicinity, together with a full-scale clamp-down on every known spaceport within range. It had been the last order he'd ever given on Sebrara, and the last order he'd given Solo.

On their return to the _Dictator_ , Velerrin discovered what Talyn was really doing on board his ship. Velerrin had been arrested on a fabricated charge of conspiracy that centered around the sending of covert and treasonable transmissions. It'd been a cover-up of course. Although it'd taken Velerrin twelve more years to discover the true reasons for his arrest that night, he'd known from the moment they started asking him questions that he'd ended up right in the middle of the puzzle he was trying to solve. Because the questioning had focused on everything Velerrin himself had sought to discover.

They'd asked him if he'd ever been to Prystyn and if he'd known Bereljia Kovo. They'd talked about Jerik Druso and certain experiments conducted by the Drusos. And they'd been suspicious of his above-normal interaction with Lieutenant Solo.

And when Velerrin had denied any awareness of the Druso business, they'd brought in an experienced interrogation team. Kerul Talyn had supervised the whole thing, and all the time Velerrin had never realized that another piece of the puzzle, in the form of Talyn himself, had been right there beside him.

The irony of it all was that the manufactured conspiracy charge had contained an element of truth and if they'd bothered to focus on that aspect, they might've found more than they'd bargained for. Because Velerrin _had_ sent coded transmissions. And, in league with Tarkin, he _had_ been committing treason of a kind. Not that there'd been any plans to overthrow the Emperor. Tarkin had simply been preparing for a future filled with uncertainties, and Velerrin had been helping him.

Tarkin had intervened eventually, and Velerrin had been released. It'd had nothing to do with Tarkin's sense of loyalty or compassion, especially as the latter was a frailty Tarkin hadn't possessed. He'd simply been afraid that under torture Velerrin would expose their collaboration, and Tarkin himself would be arrested.

Velerrin hadn't known at the time just what he'd revealed under the influence of the mind-drugs. It wasn't until a year ago, when Kerul Talyn had turned up in his life once more, that he'd discovered exactly what he'd given away, and finally learned the facts about the roles played by Solo and Kovo. He'd also discovered the real truth about Talyn.

Alongside his smoldering resentment, Velerrin also had a physical reminder of the time he'd spent in that Coruscant cell. Clumsy use of an interrogator droid had damaged a leg beyond repair. As some recompense for what he'd been through, he'd ended up with a top-of-the-range prosthesis, barely distinguishable from the real thing. Velerrin could distinguish it though. At night, pain from his phantom real leg still kept him awake for hours at a time. In the early days, he'd put his insomnia to good use, imagining all the ways he could get his own back on those responsible for what he'd had to endure.

On his return to the _Dictator_ , Velerrin had been furious to discover that Solo had been kicked out of the Navy, depriving him of the chance for some retaliation. At the same time he'd discovered that mud really did stick. His rise through the ranks had been stalled, despite Tarkin's intervention. The _Dictator_ had been replaced at Sebrara and Velerrin had been consigned to peacekeeping on some desolate Outer Rim world. Tarkin had been reluctant to get involved again, in case somebody picked up on their more than casual working relationship. Instead, he'd urged Velerrin to be patient.

Velerrin had kept himself amused by embarking on a personal search for news of Solo. It hadn't been easy, as Solo had disappeared into the galaxy.

There'd been one good chance. Nar Shaddaa, and a tip-off that'd promised to make the months of searching worthwhile. But Solo had evaded him, and Velerrin had taken his anger out on the pirate-scum associate who'd helped Solo. This had worried Tarkin, fearful that his security would be compromised by Velerrin's erratic behavior. He'd given Velerrin one last chance, engineering a plan that led to Velerrin's supposed death. In reality, Tarkin had buried him away in the Outer Rim, working on the expansion and consolidation of the hidden database. Velerrin had remained there, waiting for Tarkin to hold good on his promises.

It had never happened. With the destruction of the Death Star and the death of Tarkin, Velerrin's world had collapsed for the second time.

It was only when the rumors began to circulate throughout the Empire that he'd sat up and taken notice again. The first name, Luke Skywalker, had meant nothing to Velerrin at first, but when he'd heard of the assistance a beaten-up Corellian freighter had given the Rebel Alliance during that battle at Yavin, he'd begun to laugh even before he'd heard the second name.

The fact that Solo had been partly responsible for Tarkin's death gave Velerrin a degree of satisfaction. If Tarkin had just let Velerrin loose on Solo, the Corellian wouldn't have been around to join in the fun at Yavin. It'd been Tarkin's fear for his own reputation and safety that had kept Solo around to cause trouble, and ultimately to contribute to Tarkin's death.

Velerrin wondered if Tarkin would be amused that so many years after his death, the supporters that the Grand Moff had secretly enlisted had finally come together to make use of their knowledge.

A small sound outside the cabin distracted Velerrin from his thoughts. A satisfied smile twisted his lips as he recognized the distinctive whine of repulsors. He relaxed in his restraints, calmly waiting to be released.


	21. Chapter 21

The second steel cuff broke apart and fell to the floor. Luke rubbed at his left wrist, the skin raw and sore where the metal had chafed. The acrid smell of burning filled the outbuilding.

"I hope you tied him up tight," Han muttered.

"He won't be happy about it."

"Good." Han looked at Jak. "You gonna get 'em off his ankles too?"

"I can try." Jak reached for one of Luke's ankles, wrapping a protective band of insulation around the exposed skin. Re-activating the beam cutter, he trained the laser against the metal.

The time it was taking to cut through the cuffs had given Luke the chance to finish telling Velerrin's story.

"He's hated us for years," Jak said, incredulity in his voice.

Han paced over to the doorway and stared out across the plots. "Yeah, well the feeling's mutual."

"What are we going to do with him when we get to the cabin?"

Han turned back round to study Jak for a long moment, before looking at Luke. Returning his gaze, Luke stayed silent, waiting for Han to acknowledge that there was only one real choice.

"We hand him over to the Alliance," Han said eventually. "There's a lot more involved here than just our problems."

"I've got some questions I'd like to ask him first," Jak said, his eyes firmly fixed on the cutting beam. The tool cast a greenish light on Jak's face, accentuating the lines that the difficult years of imprisonment had etched into his face.

"Don't worry," Han said, "You'll get the chance."

"The database he was working on for Tarkin – d'you think it still exists?"

"Oh, it exists alright," Luke said. "Creating that's been his life's work, so there's no way he'd have destroyed it."

"He didn't give you any idea about where it might be?" Han asked.

Luke shook his head. "No. He gave nothing away except the things he wanted me to know."

"So the first thing the Alliance will do is get the details off him?" Jak asked.

Han gave a short laugh. "I've got a feeling it won't be that simple. Our main problem's gonna be making sure we find it before Moff Blaine. If he ever gets to hear of it..."

"You'd think he would've sided with Blaine. He hates the Alliance, and Blaine could do a lot of damage with all that information."

"Velerrin hates the Empire too after what they did to him," Luke said. "Even though _he'd_ have betrayed anyone to get what he wanted, he can't deal with it the other way round."

"People like him never can," Han agreed, "but it looks like he blames me more than the Empire for his arrest. And I still don't really get it. I mean, I get him hating me, and I get that he thought I was more involved than I was, but after all these years he still holds me responsible?"

Luke frowned. "Talyn had something to do with that. It's another one of the things he hinted at but never explained. Talyn had some kind of hold over Velerrin, but it wasn't completely one-sided. Velerrin found something out about Talyn too."

"D'you think Talyn knew about Velerrin and Tarkin?" Jak asked.

"I think he must've done. Something got uncovered during the interrogation. I could sense some very mixed emotions coming from Velerrin when he talked about it. Obviously, he's not gonna have good memories of it, but it seemed like there was something... odd. Something to do with Talyn."

Jak took a deep breath. "Talyn had a way of twisting the truth but in such a convincing way it left me wondering whose side he was on. Or whose side _I_ was on. Of course, it's easy to look back on it and see what kind of game he was playing. But at the time..." Jak tailed off, shrugged.

"That's what they do though, isn't it? Interrogators. Make you question yourself," Luke said quietly.

Jak stared at him for a moment, a slight frown between his brows, then reached for an insulation pad. He worked it down inside the ankle cuff, protecting Luke's skin from the final burn through of the laser. "Yeah. That's what they do," he replied.

The clatter of falling metal broke the silence and dispelled the tension that'd begun to build up. Han had gone back to look outside as Jak began working on the other cuff. He spoke without turning round. "It's starting to get light. What's Wes doing? It shouldn't be takin' him this long."

"And I'm beginning to wonder why Elina hasn't got back to me," Jak said. "She's usually so quick." Jak had tried earlier to contact his assistant, but there'd been no response. He'd left an urgent call-back code.

Han stalked back over to Luke and Jak, looking agitated. "I don't like any of this. It feels like a trap. D'you think Talyn was behind that datacard? What the hell was it for? If it was just to get us here, why's nothing else happened?"

"Probably because the plan didn't work out right," Luke said. "I got away, and obviously I wasn't supposed to."

"Talyn didn't know that. But he still disappeared."

"I don't think Talyn was expecting you to be here. I don't think it _was_ him who arranged the datacard. It has to be Velerrin."

Han shook his head. "Why didn't Velerrin throw the stuff at _me_ in the hospital? Then he could've just killed me. Why go to all the hassle of keeping you prisoner?"

"I don't know, but I don't think simply killing you was what he had in mind," Luke replied. "That would've been too easy for him."

"That figures."

"And if he'd killed you, you wouldn't have been around to play a part in whatever he had in store for the rest of us. My guess is he wanted you to feel responsible for it in some way."

"I just can't wait to meet him," Jak muttered, reaching for a steel wrench. He forced the remaining edges of the last cuff apart. "There. That's finished," he told Luke.

"Thanks. Feels good to be rid of those."

"If you can stand to sit still for a bit longer I'll deal with the rest of you."

"You might have a problem there," Han commented. "Sittin' still ain't his strong point. Not if he can find anything else to do instead."

Luke threw Han a swift grin. "I'm sure you were the perfect patient at the medcenter when they dealt with your hands." 

"Never made a word of complaint," Han said, feigning indignation.

"Sounds likely." Luke took off the combat shirt he'd found in Velerrin's cabin while Jak opened up a steel cupboard at the far end of the outbuilding. When Luke looked up, it was to find Han staring at him.

"What?"

"So what'd he use then – armored boots?"

"See for yourself," Luke replied, gesturing towards the boots he'd discarded on the floor.

Han glanced at them, his expression even, but Luke could see beneath it something more revealing. "It wasn't because of you," Luke said, trying to divert Han from dwelling on his lengthening list of problems with Velerrin. "He hates me almost as much as he hates you."

"But he took it all out on you, didn't he?"

"Because I was there." There was a battle going on inside Han's head, and Luke could see it, despite Han's attempts to stay detached. "He'd want it to get to you. Don't let it," Luke added, knowing it was easier said than done. He'd be no different if it'd been the other way round, and the look Han gave him told him Han was thinking the very same thing.

Jak gave a small grimace at the sight of Luke's injuries. "The medcenter would put you in a tank."

"They'd have to catch him first," Han pointed out.

"Well at least I can help a bit." Jak held in his hand a flask full of a dark, pungent liquid. "The acid caused these burns, right?"

Luke nodded.

"The medical droids must've done something pretty quickly. There won't be any scarring."

"That'll be a disappointment," Han muttered. "He collects scars."

Luke sighed with exasperated amusement. "Was he this difficult when you knew him before?" he asked Jak.

"He's hardly changed at all. Just looks older, obviously."

"With what I've had to put up with, it's a wonder I look as good as I do," Han said.

"Of course, that's debatable," Luke added.

Jak laughed, and set about applying the liquid to Luke's injuries. "Sorry if it hurts."

The liquid frothed as it touched Luke's skin, leaving behind a protective coating that felt cooling and anesthetizing after the initial sting. Jak worked methodically, but by the time he'd finished the frown between his brows had deepened, and his mood had turned darker and more introspective.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked.

In answer, Jak took hold of Luke's left wrist and lifted the arm up a little. He turned it slightly, revealing the underside. "These scars..."

Luke followed Jak's gaze, although he knew by now just which scars Jak referred to. A row of them made a more-or-less regular path from his wrist all the way up his inner arm. The scars had a distinctive, matching pattern, with a depth and permanence that even bacta immersion had failed to eliminate.

Gently, Jak released Luke's wrist. "What you said to me before – about interrogators – you really know, don't you?"

Behind him, Luke could sense Han's increased disquiet. For Han to have joked about the scars Luke had managed to gather over the years had been a major stride forwards. But this amounted to more than just another small step. It was a headlong fall into the real heart of issues they still hadn't touched. Even so, there was little point in denying Jak's observation. He nodded. "Yes."

Jak's face had turned pale with unwelcome knowledge. He shook his head slowly. "There are too many of them."

"What d'you mean?" Han asked. He'd come up to stand behind Luke, his hands on Luke's shoulders.

Jak looked up at Han, his eyes shadowed by memory. "I know what made them." Jak unfastened his tunic. Three scars, more-or-less identical to those on Luke's arm, marked Jak's chest. "I only have these. But afterwards they used to threaten me with it. Told me they'd use it again, only they never did. It'll sound strange, but the fear of it was just as bad." He looked again at Luke. "How could you have...?"

Han finished the question for him. "Survived it?" He studied the scars on Jak's chest with a grim intensity. "That's just a tiny bit of what they did to him."

"But... I never would've..." Jak gave up and fell silent.

"The situation was completely different," Luke explained. "And you were so young. You were important to them and they wanted something from you. They couldn't afford to risk killing you."

"But you – you must have been important to them too? Didn't they want something from you?"

Luke shook his head, aware of Han's grip tightening on his shoulders. "Not in that way. The only thing they wanted from me was my death." He gave a short smile. "They just didn't want it too quickly."

"How long did they have you for?" Jak's voice was strained.

Han answered again before Luke could reply. "Seven days. And they made the most of 'em."

Luke twisted round slightly. "Han..."

" 'S okay – I guess I'm not supposed to let that get to me either. I'm gonna go check on Wedge. See if he's heard from Wes."

Jak watched Han's angry, retreating form with a puzzled frown. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Han was wound up enough to begin with."

"It's not your fault. It's just very complicated." Luke gave a small sigh. "And I've made it worse because I've not talked to him about it. At least, not properly. It's... not easy.

Jak nodded. "It's hard to talk about. Even though it never goes away. I still get nightmares. D'you understand?"

"Yeah," Luke replied. "But Han knows what it's like too. He was tortured by the Empire on Bespin. He said it wasn't too bad in the end, but that's easy to say after it's all over. They never spoke to him." He shrugged slightly. "It's hard to know which is worse – not knowing what they're gonna do to you next, or having them explain in great detail so you know what to expect."

"I know." Jak hesitated a moment. "How did they get hold of you? Was it during the Rebellion?"

"No – it was just after we set up the Council on Coruscant. I got an invitation to the Festival of Regeneration on Chaalui. The Chaal had been slaves under the Empire, and we'd helped free them."

"I've heard of the Chaal. Aren't they supposed to be very gentle and peaceful?"

"They are, which is why they were so easy to enslave. Things were still pretty shaky there, and the Chaal didn't have a lot of confidence. The leaders thought holding the festival would help, especially as the Empire had banned it for years. They asked me to go 'cause they thought it'd strengthen their links with the Alliance, and because they'd had a special friendship with the Jedi Council in the past." He gave a wry grimace. "It was supposed to make them all feel safer. Instead, I brought the Empire with me."

"They followed you there?"

"Not exactly. Someone had tipped them off that I'd be going there alone. It was an ideal opportunity for them. The festival's held in a remote valley full of ancient temples. The whole place is very special to the Chaal. No weapons are allowed into the grove, so I'd left my lightsaber with Artoo, back on my ship."

"R2? A droid?"

Luke nodded. "Right in the middle of the ceremony stormtroopers marched in with younglings they'd taken from the nearest settlement. With blasters pointed in their faces."

"Great," Jak muttered. "But how did they get so close? Didn't the Alliance have troops posted there for security?"

"They used to, but the Chaal had asked them to leave. They wanted to prove they could cope. And the Festival was to mark their first day of total independence. Mon Mothma's never gonna force worlds to keep Alliance troops around if they don't want them, and it was the Chaal's decision."

"Not such a good one for you though."

"There're risks everywhere. The visit was important to the Chaal, and I wanted to go."

Han had wanted to go with him, but the Chaal had specifically asked Luke alone because he was a Jedi. And Luke had an additional, personal, reason for making the visit. The Chaal had told Luke that Jedi used to attend all the festivals on Chaalui. The visit promised an opportunity to fill in something of the sketchy outline on Jedi history that Ben and Yoda had supplied. They'd seemed reluctant to talk about the past, possibly feeling that it was no longer of any relevance, yet Luke had begun to crave some more substantial knowledge. He didn't have any plans to recreate the past, nor did he feel he should attempt to emulate the behavior of those unknown, long-dead Jedi. It was simple curiosity – there was nobody alive to compare himself to, other than Leia, and she was in the same position as he was. Han had told him jokingly many times that he was one-of-a-kind, but it hadn't always been that way. As it turned out, Luke never got the chance to discover anything.

"Why did they take the younglings? They used them as hostages?" Jak asked, breaking the momentary silence.

"It was to stop me giving them any trouble, as they put it. They meant no Jedi funny business. They didn't leave anything to chance either. They'd already taken one group of prisoners to a hidden location on Chaalui. They brought the others to the temples first – to reinforce the message I suppose. Governor Feltran had arranged to check in at regular intervals with the troopers holding them. If he didn't make the transmissions, the troopers were to assume I'd killed him or something. That'd be their signal to kill the hostages. So they gave me the choice of either co-operating, or having the Chaal younglings shot."

"Not really a choice then."

"No."

"You trusted him – that he wouldn't just kill the Chaal anyway?"

"Yes. It sounds odd I guess, but I just knew he'd stick to what he said. His argument was with me, and he had no personal feelings against the Chaal – they were just a means to an end. If I'd given him cause to have them killed, he'd have done it without a second thought, but otherwise, he'd leave them alone."

"But even if you hadn't been sure, you wouldn't have taken the risk," Jak said.

Luke gave him a half smile. "No. How could I?"

"But what'd you done to him? Why did he do that to you?"

"How long have you got? I mean his whole life was tied up with the Empire. I'd taken everything from him."

"Killing you wasn't enough for him? He had to do... all that?"

Luke was silent for a moment or two. "He wanted me to agree that I deserved to die for what I'd done. He thought he'd get me to say it in the end."

Jak just looked at him without replying and Luke knew why. There was nothing to say. Nothing changed the facts of what'd happened, and nothing could make you forget it.

Jak touched Luke lightly on the arm instead. "Han found out where you were?" he asked eventually.

"Yeah."

"He feels guilty that he didn't get there sooner, doesn't he?"

"Amongst other things," Luke said. "But to me, it was incredible that he found me at all. I still don't know exactly how he did it because it's one of those things that never gets talked about."

He studied Jak's face for a moment. "You know, all this time, he's felt guilty over what happened to you – or over what he _thought_ had happened. Of course, now he knows the truth, he feels guilty about that too."

"I can tell," Jak replied. He gave a bemused shake of his head. "But things like this happen – nobody could've done anything. He doesn't think I blame him for any of it does he?"

"No. But it's difficult isn't it, when you care about people? Once you start asking yourself questions, you start wondering if there was something obvious you missed, or should've done. If he could, he'd be everywhere at once, protecting everyone he cares about."

Jak nodded slowly. "Somehow, Talyn understood that. He planned to use Han against me, but didn't want to take any chances on Han causing problems. That's why he put out I'd been shot."

"The best interrogators are those with some insight. Even when they're not trying to get answers from you, they're looking for better ways to intimidate you."

"Yes." Jak frowned slightly. "Was that where you lost your hand?"

Luke glanced down at the hand. Most of the time, other than the barely noticeable joints of the access chamber, it was indistinguishable from the real thing. But now, after the damage sustained over the last couple of days, his hand looked to be just what it was.

"No. I lost that at Bespin."

Something about the way he'd said it made Jak apologize. "Sorry. Tell me to shove off if I'm out of line."

Luke smiled. "You're not out of line. A lot of things happened there, and we've never really talked them through. It's sort of to do with that guilt thing again."

Jak nodded, and walked across to lock the steel cabinet, the activity partially breaking the subtle tension that the reference to Bespin had brought about. "I guess there's no point telling you this, but you really should be resting for a few days."

"I don't think that's gonna happen somehow. Feels a lot better though – thanks for doing all this."

"No problem." Jak hesitated. "It's not over for you, is it?" he asked. "I mean, I know there's not been much time. What happened to me was years ago, but it's hard to forget, even now."

"You've barely had a chance to," Luke pointed out. "They took most of your life away from you. You've only been free for two years." He gave Jak another quick smile. "But you're right. It's not over yet."

Luke moved towards the door. "I need to find Han. And we should see if anything's happening."

"Luke," Jak said, halting Luke's progress out of the door. "When there's time... I'd... like to talk some more. If it's okay with you."

Luke turned back and gave him another smile. "Sure. Whatever you want. It'd do me good as well."

"And Han?"

"Yeah, him too."

 

It didn't take long for Luke to find Han. He was half-way across the plots on his way back to the outbuilding. His whole demeanor suggested trouble, and Luke quickened his pace to reach him.

"What's happened?"

"Wes finally called in. He got back to our swoops, but all three of 'em have been wrecked. The engines blasted to pieces. No way of repairing 'em."

"Sabotaged?"

Han nodded, his face grim. "That's not all. He found the Swelvarne Front's speeder bikes too. Same story."

"We're not gonna get very far on foot."

"No. Someone went to a lot of trouble to get us here, and it doesn't look like they want us to leave.


	22. Chapter 22

The early morning heat was intensifying, covering the ground with swirls of steam and increasing the humidity to a level close to intolerable. The sour odor of swamp vegetation filtered in through every shutter, tainting the air and warning of far worse to come.

A group of them had gathered in the back room of Jak's chalet, but the warmth of bodies had overpowered the air-cooling system and ratcheted up the temperature a few degrees more.

"Dunno how you can stand it here," Han said, wiping the back of his hand against his brow.

Jak looked up from his com-console with a wry grin. "You get used to it after a few years." He gestured to the screen. "Still no response from Elina. I'll have to try the medcenter's open channel."

"If anyone's listening in, they're gonna know we're still here," Han warned.

"I know. But we don't have a lot of choice, and we won't get far without transport. It'd take us hours to get back to our ships on foot, and up there on the plains we'd be in full view of anyone who came looking."

"What about into the swamps?" Wedge asked.

Jak shook his head. "Not on foot. We could get a little way into the jungle, but after that there's hardly any dry land. And believe me, you wouldn't wanna risk walking through there." Jak looked over towards Luke. "You've seen what it's like. You were lucky to get through so unprotected."

Luke nodded. "We need some back-up, and I don't think it'll make much difference if anyone intercepts the transmission. I get the feeling a few people know we're stuck here anyway." He walked across to the desk and leaned against it, closing his eyes for just a short moment.

Han watched him uneasily, seeing beneath Luke's resilience the clear signs of exhaustion, alongside a too-familiar struggle to ignore his obvious discomfort. Luke had always been that way, but since the trauma of Talandir it was like he'd made a conscious decision to push himself to the limits in everything he did. It was all part of the guard he'd built up around himself – part protection and part refusal to allow himself to give in.

Han could understand it and saw the same tendencies in himself to a certain extent. But Luke drove himself way too hard, burying himself in endless activity and always dangerously close to the edge of burn-out. Since Ghandine, in the short time they'd had together, Luke had made a genuine effort to break free of the impulse to isolate himself, and he'd started to share with Han small fragments of the things that fuelled his nightmares. But Han also knew that demanding too much too soon was the surest way to make Luke retreat further from openness.

Yet now, after all he'd just been through, Han could see Luke's reserve beginning to return to a level he'd hoped had gone for good. It was hardly surprising in the circumstances. Han could only imagine how Luke must've felt gaining consciousness in the stifling heat and pitch darkness to find himself in chains, with no way of knowing where he was or who'd taken him. Luke would've tried to push aside all evidence of vulnerability as the only way of getting through it, and now he'd succeeded in doing that, he'd be reluctant to relinquish that control again.

Of course, Luke had a right to deal with things in the way he wanted, and if Han believed he was genuinely coping in the best way possible, then he shouldn't intervene. But it was obvious to Han that Luke was struggling, not just physically, but with the strain of constantly telling himself he was okay with everything that'd happened to him. This wasn't the right time and place to broach anything other than the practicalities of staying alive and getting out of here, but Han could use that as a reason to get Luke to stop, if only for a short while. Rested, Luke would be much more capable of dealing with anything else that might turn up. The trick was finding the right way to say it. Arguing with Luke just tended to make him dig his heels in further.

Han moved over to the desk to join Luke and half sat on the edge of it, pushing aside a few of Jak's personal possessions that had accumulated on the surface.

He adopted his most casual tone of voice. "Until back-up arrives we're not goin' anywhere. Might as well try to get some rest."

"I keep thinking about Velerrin," Luke said, turning to face Han and predictably ignoring Han's suggestion. "Maybe I ought to get back there – check he's not managed to get free. And if someone else finds him before us..."

Han sighed inwardly. "You've gotta be kidding me. You can hardly stand up, let alone make it back there. 'Sides, someone's been watchin' everything we do. So they might _still_ be watching. We've all gotta stick together from now on – no-one's going off alone."

"Let's hope someone gets here quickly then." Luke glanced down at the desk where several framed holos stood in a haphazard arrangement. He picked one up and studied it for a moment, frowning. "That's Marika Bronn isn't it?"

Han took the holo. It showed the exterior of the Taramine Medcenter, and four people grouped in front of it. They stood, each with an arm upraised, holding out a goblet in a silent toast. Marika Bronn, looking older than she had in the holo he'd seen in Judd's offices, stood beside Jak. She appeared tired and pale, but her smile was one of genuine happiness. On her other side was Elina Breya. She had an arm draped across Marika's shoulders and was smiling broadly at the holocam. Linu Vilafii was the fourth member of the group, looking relaxed and proud.

"Yeah, that's Marika," Han said, peering closely at the image, searching for the young girl he'd known beneath the face of the woman she'd grown into.

"It was taken by Shil," Jak explained, noticing their interest. "It was the day we opened the Research Wing. A happy day," he finished, his voice carrying a hard, bleak edge.

"Who's the other woman?" Luke asked Jak. "I know Doctor Vilafii."

"Elina Breya. She works in the labs with me."

"The assistant we were on our way to find before we got sidetracked," Han added.

"Really, she's overqualified to be an assistant, but it's the way she wants it," Jak said. He gave a short, abrasive laugh. "You'd think, after so long in the swamps, we'd both have wanted to get as far away as possible. I guess the real world seemed too big. All of a sudden we were free to go, and yet neither of us went anywhere." He shrugged, and turned his attention back to the com-console. He began to tap in the code for the Taramine Medcenter.

 

"Jerik!" Linu Vilafii exclaimed. They could hear her relief even through the patchy quality of the receiver. "Where are you? Please tell me what's going on. Elina's been trying to get hold of you."

Jak frowned and cast a puzzled look at the others. "She has? Did she get the message code I left then?"

"Nothing's _been_ left! We've been so worried. We expected you back hours ago, and the Alliance Commander has set off to look for you all."

Han pushed off from the desk and leaned into the console. Vilafii's expression softened slightly when she saw him.

"Han. We thought you'd come straight back. There's been no news of Luke, and–"

"We've found Luke," Han cut in. "That's why we were tryin' to get hold of you."

"Oh... is he–?"

"Okay. He's okay. But it'd be good if we could get some help here. We've lost our transport."

Vilafii gave a long, drawn-out sigh. Han reflected momentarily that it wouldn't be the first time someone's protective instincts had focused on Luke. He had that effect on people, even though he was more than capable of looking after himself. And it was in the doctor's own medcenter that someone had attacked Luke, so she no doubt felt some weight of responsibility. "There's help on its way to you now," she said.

Han grinned at her. "It's about time. You said the Alliance Commander – d'you mean Judder Page? He got there at last?"

"Yes. He went a bit berserk when I told him what'd happened. He'll be very relieved to know you've found Luke. But where was he? What happened? Have you caught the person responsible?"

"Yeah, we've caught him," Han muttered. "Soon as Judd gets here we're gonna bring him in. You told Judd to come to Jak's place?"

"He went off with Elina so she could give him all the details. We didn't know where you'd be, but it was all we could think of to do."

"Is he by himself?"

"He's got someone with him. A major from Fiore."

"Major Evlar?" Han asked, turning to catch the eye of Haric Evlar.

Evlar raised his eyebrows at the mention of his sister's name, but remained leaning back against the wall.

"That's right. And he's contacted the Alliance ships that your General sent out. Told them to–"

The screen flickered and died. Simultaneously, the hum of the air cooler stuttered, turning to a low-pitched whine that slowly faded to nothing.

Jak hit switches, but there was no response.

"What is it – some kind of power failure?" Wedge asked, moving over to examine the console.

Evlar flicked on his comlink, his immediate reaction to check with the colleagues he'd posted on lookout duty around the enclosure.

"It'll be the generator," Jak answered. "It's always cutting out. I'll have to fix it or we'll roast to death in here." He slid the chair back from the console and got to his feet.

Han noticed how the atmosphere in the room had already closed in. It was unimaginable how anyone could ever have existed in the swamps in the conditions the Empire's prisoners had lived in. But Jak had managed it. And Marika.

"You're sure it's that?" Luke asked.

Jak nodded. "It happens regularly. The conditions here cause a lot of problems with the equipment."

"And it's all clear outside," Evlar confirmed.

"Where's the generator then?" Luke started to move away from the desk but stopped suddenly, one hand reaching out for something to hold on to. He took one unsteady step forward. "Han..."

Han caught Luke before he fell, wrapping an arm around his waist and feeling the whole weight of Luke's body collapse against him. He hauled him across to a bench along a side wall, Jak and Wedge following behind him closely.

"Luke – c'mon now," Han pressed a palm against Luke's cheek, swallowing his panic and trying to stamp out the memory of an earlier time, when he'd watched Luke lose a fight to stay conscious.

He lifted Luke's legs up onto the bench, trying to be methodical. He fumbled for Luke's hand, sudden shock changing to a muffled curse when he realized he was looking for a non-existent pulse in the wrong wrist.

"What's wrong with him? Why'd he just...?"

"A combination of things probably," Jak said, his calm voice cutting through Han's anxiety. He took hold of Luke's left wrist, probably only too aware of the agitation that'd swept Han's common sense aside. "Over-tiredness and lack of sleep for one thing, but I'd say mainly the residue of the drugs. From what he described, Velerrin gave him some sort of psychoactive drug. Along with all the nasty side-effects, it's hardly surprising he couldn't think straight. It'll still be affecting him."

"He's gonna be okay though? Can you do something?"

"If I knew what Velerrin had given him... I can only guess."

"But–"

Jak touched Han's arm. "He'll be okay. He just needs time to recover. It's hardly ideal, being stuck here."

"I should've taken him back to Taramine," Han muttered.

"How? By walking back to your ship?"

"There's Velerrin's speeder bike."

"You heard what Luke said," Wedge put in. "It's only a swamp scooter, barely big enough for one. It wouldn't even make it up the cliff."

"Yeah, I know." Han got up and paced about the room, suddenly unable to remain still. "Why the hell did I drag us all into this mess? I should've been more careful. If you knew what this last year's been like..."

"I can guess," Jak said. "And this is a big set-back."

"Set-back? It's more than a goddamn set-back," Han snapped. "We go from one disaster to the next, and where the hell's it gonna end?" He gestured at Luke. "Is that what you get for trying to help? This whole damn galaxy's screwed up if it thinks there's anything right about it."

"But you can't blame yourself," Jak insisted. "Velerrin didn't take Luke by mistake instead of you. He targeted him deliberately. If you stand up against anything in this galaxy you're going to make enemies, and Luke's bound to have his fair share of them."

"Sure. But when someone claiming to be _my_ enemy starts killing and hurting people I care about as part of some sick game of revenge, am I s'pposed to sit still and accept it? And just because Luke's who he is and he's made a few enemies, does that make it okay for anyone with a twisted agenda to take it out on him?"

Wedge placed a hand on Han's shoulder and squeezed. "No – it doesn't make it okay. And you're right to be angry. We're all angry. But you're still seeing it as something you could've prevented – maybe by keeping Luke out of it. But wasn't he involved in it even before _you_ were? There's no way he'd have backed out of seeing this through."

Han took a deep breath in, struggling to ease the tension that had seized every muscle in his body. He'd had almost this exact same conversation with Wedge back in the Medcenter, and the answers hadn't changed. They never would, and Wedge was right. Luke was Luke, and he'd never willingly take a back seat if getting involved offered the chance to help. And it felt like only moments before that he'd told Luke how determined he was to ease off on his fear for Luke's safety. He'd obviously just proved to himself that it was next to impossible.

And none of this was helping Luke. It was just an attempt to offload his own frustrations, and if Han was honest about it, it didn't come close to ridding him of the anger that was eating away at him. He returned to Luke's side and gazed down on him, noting how Luke's sudden pallor had made the injuries on his face appear even more livid. He unclenched a fist and brushed hair away from Luke's forehead, troubled by the way Luke felt too cold in the oppressive heat of the chalet.

The truth of the matter was, he didn't _want_ to hand Velerrin over to the Alliance. He knew he _had_ to, but that was his head talking. What he really wanted was time alone with him. But deep down he knew that nothing he could ever do or say to Velerrin would make the slightest bit of difference to the way Velerrin was – he was doing what he was doing out of some distorted sense of justice. The most Han could achieve by dealing with Velerrin in the way he'd like to would be a short-lived sense of revenge. And knowing he'd be doing just the opposite of what Luke would want him to do would pretty much cancel out any satisfaction anyway.

"I'm gonna go double check on my friends," Evlar said, bringing Han's thoughts back to their immediate difficulties. "If you need me for anything, call me on this." He tapped his comlink.

Jak watched Evlar go and turned his attention back to Han. "We'll be out of here soon and you can get some proper medical attention. In the meantime, I'll see what I can sort out. It's complicated, because the drug will have reacted with the knock-out drug, and I've no way of knowing what that could've been. Your description and the way Luke said it made him feel make me think of grellica, but that'd imply proper knowledge of the grellica roots, and it has to be blended correctly."

"You've lost me," Han admitted.

"It's a powerful narcotic, made from the core of the roots. Grellica's native to the swamps. We had to test it at Peshtin."

"It'd knock you out just by breathing it in?"

"Yes, but it's nasty stuff. The proportions have to be right or it'll kill you."

Han rubbed a hand across his face. "If it's still affecting him, does that mean it's still dangerous? Why does he feel so cold?"

"If it's grellica, then the person who provided it knew exactly what they were doing. Velerrin wanted him alive, and he wouldn't have used it if there was a risk of killing him. This is just the after-effects of it." Jak touched the back of his hand to Luke's forehead. "The coldness is from a sudden fall in blood pressure, but it'll pass quickly. Don't worry."

"The woman who threw it died," Han reminded Jak.

Jak frowned. "Yes. But something bothers me about that."

"Like it was a bit too convenient?"

"Exactly."

Han considered that in silence for a few moments before asking his next question. "Just tell me one other thing. This grellica – is it acidic too?"

Jak hesitated. "No. I suspect that was added."

It was what Han suspected too, so hearing it from Jak was hardly a surprise. It still produced a sharp stab of additional rage. He rode it out, waiting for it to ease to a manageable level, then nodded. "If you've got something that might help, go ahead."

"Stay here with him then. I'm going out to the generator first, because the heat won't be helping either."

"You can't go by yourself."

"I'll go with him," Wedge said. He glanced at his chrono and frowned. "You know, Wes really should've been back by now."

"Maybe he's hanging back," Han suggested. "In daylight it's difficult to make it down unseen."

"It's possible, but I'm not getting his signal on the comlink anymore. It's like he's gone out of range."

"Then he's up to something. It'd be like Wes."

Wedge gave him an uneasy grin. "That's what's worrying me."

 

Han sat down on the floor because it was marginally cooler down there, and leaned his head back against the bench. He closed his eyes, feeling fatigue wash over him, claiming the last of his energy. It was exhausting, having to contain all his anger and frustration, and trying to behave as everyone expected him to. Making out that he was staying calm and logical about the whole thing, when all he wanted to do was smash things. The stupid thing was, it wasn't even fooling anyone. It certainly hadn't fooled Luke, yet Luke still trusted him not to do anything irresponsible.

The thought made him feel a little calmer. And Luke was right. Velerrin had to answer to the Alliance for what he'd done, and not just because it involved a potentially disastrous situation if Blaine should acquire the database. There were other people involved in this. Others who had a right to put their stories and to ask questions without Han depriving them of the chance. People like Shil Du'Rhush, and Ferim Saguno's family.

The heat was adding to his drowsiness, so Han concentrated on sound to keep himself awake. Even without the hum of the air cooler the place wasn't quiet. The air itself seemed to groan under the sheer weight of the moisture it contained. More likely, what he could hear was the shifting mud that formed the base of the swamps. In the still air, noises carried far, and he caught the subdued murmur of sluggish streams and the sigh of falling vegetation from the surrounding jungle. And above all, he listened to the steady rhythm of Luke's breathing, and wondered how long it was going to take to set things right.

 

"Han."

The voice pushed its way through the heavy fog of sleep, and Han forced his eyes open with difficulty. At the same time, a warm hand curled around the side of his neck. Startled, Han twisted round.

Luke smiled at him. "You're awake."

Han said the first thing that came into his mind. "I didn't know I was asleep." He grinned at the inanity of the remark. "So are you. Awake, I mean." He moved onto his knees, facing Luke. "How're you doing?"

"Okay, I think. I can't remember how I got here."

"I suggested you lie down, and you agreed."

"Really?"

"Seein' as it's about as likely as a herd of banthas sprouting wings and taking off, what do _you_ think?"

"The generator cut out didn't it?"

"Wasn't the only thing."

"Oh."

"That's it? You just keel over on me and scare me half to death, and all you can say is 'oh'?"

"Well you did _want_ me to rest." The smile Luke gave him was a lot less strained than earlier ones had been.

"Wasn't really what I had in mind, but I guess it's typical of you not to do something the normal way."

Luke started to push himself up from the bench, but Han had anticipated that, sliding an arm across Luke's shoulders to hold him down. "What's the rush?"

"How long have I been here?" Luke asked. He didn't struggle to free himself, so Han relaxed his grip, keeping one hand lightly on Luke's shoulder.

Han looked at his chrono and raised his eyebrows in surprise. "About two hours."

"Where is everyone?"

"Jak and Wedge went off to fix the generator. Evlar's with his pals on lookout duty. Wes ain't back yet, as far as I know. So you've got nothing to worry about."

"Apart from the fact we're trapped here and we don't know why, and two hours is a long time to be fixing a generator."

"No-one's called to say there's a bigger problem, and Judd'll be here any minute, so we won't be trapped for much longer."

Luke shifted his position, a flicker of discomfort passing over his face with the movement.

Noticing it, Han lifted his hand, ran his fingers through Luke's hair. "When this is all over I'm takin' you away for a while."

"Oh? Where?"

"I'm not gonna tell you, 'cause if I did that, you'd let the Alliance know, just in case they needed to get hold of you. And it's gonna be somewhere with no communications equipment, so you can't just call Coruscant every day to check if there's some life-threatening situation you might be missing out on."

"Okay..."

"And before you bother to come up with any, I've got an answer for every excuse you'll find to get out of it."

"Maybe I wouldn't want to come up with any excuses."

Han grinned at him. "Then we're back to the flying banthas again."

Luke slid a hand around Han's neck and pulled him closer. "I like the idea of going away. As long as it's with you."

"Well someone's gotta force you to relax – might as well be me," Han murmured, bringing his lips down on Luke's.

Some moments later, he pulled back and ran the tip of a finger across Luke's cheek. "I fell asleep thinking of all the things I'd like to do to Velerrin," he admitted.

Luke gazed back at him but didn't speak.

"All this time he's had it in for me, but it's everyone else who's been on the receiving end."

Luke shook his head at that. "It's more than a private hatred of you. It's part of a wider plan. And you've been just as much on the receiving end as I have, but in a different way. He knows what to do to hurt you – it's not just about beating someone up."

"I know. But he did a lot more than beat you up didn't he? That side of it's bad enough, but it's like he knew... Like he wanted to make you go through it again. The whole setup..." He fell silent, aware of Luke's questioning gaze.

"I know what you're trying to say," Luke said eventually, "and I'm sorry."

" _You're_ sorry? You've got enough problems without having to go back over the past, and I don't blame you for not wanting to talk about it. I'm sorry I walked out before. I dunno why I did it."

Luke gave a quiet sigh. " _I_ know why. I've made things very difficult for you this last year."

Han bent his head down and planted another kiss on Luke's lips. "No you haven't. You've made everything worth it." He kissed Luke again, partly to stop Luke from trying to shoulder all the blame again, but mostly because he couldn't stop himself.

"Jak's gonna find something for you," he said afterwards, some inner sense telling him to turn the conversation back to the present. "It'll help counteract the effects of the drugs Velerrin gave you. Can't have you suddenly blacking out again."

"It kept happening to me there. Only it was a lot worse. One minute Velerrin was talking, and the next I'd realize he'd been gone for some time. I should've known what was happening."

"Hey, don't start criticizing yourself for anything. He knew for sure what effect those drugs would have – he didn't leave anything to chance."

"I guess so."

Han glanced again at his chrono. "I'm gonna contact Jak. Let him know you're okay and find out if he's anywhere close to repairing that generator. It's gettin' kinda hot in here."

Luke caught Han's arm. "Wait." He smiled slowly. "Thanks."

Han shrugged. "What for?"

"Staying with me."

"Where else would I go?"

"You know what I mean."

Han's grin returned. "Yeah. And my answer's still the same."

 

Jak's sudden return pre-empted Han's intention to call him, and he moved over to the door quickly. "You've been a long time. You can't fix it?"

Jak shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. I can't find anything wrong with it, apart from the fact it won't work."

Han frowned. "It's never done this before? You've always been able to work out what's gone wrong?"

"Yes. I'm thinking it must be something to do with the coolant, but that's a sealed unit. I've left Wedge trying to sort it out."

"If it's sealed, then–"

"Doesn't look like anyone's tampered with it," Jak finished for him, his thoughts clearly moving along the same ominous lines as Han's. "But I'd be happier if I could analyze the coolant fluid. Just to be sure."

Jak walked over to Luke, who'd swung his legs off the bench and sat up. He grinned at him. "You look a bit better. I bet you're glad you decided to get some sleep."

Han gave a brief guffaw. "Yeah, and he's gonna listen to my advice from now on too."

"Thought I already did," Luke said.

Han threw him a disparaging look and loosened his shirt a bit more, grimacing at the way it stuck damply to his skin.

"I've brought this for you," Jak explained. "It's not a miracle cure, but it'll help to cancel out some of those side-effects." He handed Luke a vial containing a colorless liquid. "Sorry – it'll taste horrible. I only have the raw form of it here."

"I don't care what it tastes like. If it's anywhere near as good as the last stuff you gave me..."

"I'd give you more of that, but it's too soon," Jak said apologetically.

Luke downed the contents, unable to quell a shudder at the bitterness of the concoction. "Thanks. I think."

"Told you," Jak laughed.

"I could go and see if Wedge needs a hand. I was always mending my Uncle's generator back on Tatooine. I might be able to help."

In that instant, the air-cooler made a soft, spluttering sound, and at the same time a series of short beeps came from the com-console. Seconds later, all three of them felt the brush of electronically cooled air across their skin.

"Wedge did it!" Jak exclaimed.

They looked at each other, relieved and surprised in equal measure. "At least that's one less thing to worry about," Luke said. He glanced at the vial in his hand and set it down on the bench, looking thoughtful. "All these drugs... This whole thing started with the Druso toxin and we knew we were dealing with someone with real knowledge. And I know Velerrin had access to part of the formula, but–" He stopped suddenly, listening intently. "What's that?"

"I can't hear..." Han froze, the words dying on his lips.

A low steady hum, intensifying by the second, came with a subtle vibration that crept through the timbers of the chalet and up through the soles of their boots.

"It's a ship," Jak said, recognition flashing across his face. "Must be your Alliance friend."

Luke shook his head. "There's more than one. And they're fighters."

"Not just any old fighters," Han said slowly. "Those are TIEs."


	23. Chapter 23

The three of them stared at each other in shocked silence.

"So it _is_ a trap," Han said eventually.

"I guess so." Luke gave him something approximating a smile. "I suppose it's not that big a surprise."

"How could Imperial ships get past the planetary sensors?" Jak asked.

Han shrugged. "They probably brought 'em in on a freighter. It's impossible to check for everything."

"They've got us then?"

Luke answered Jak. "That might be what _they're_ thinking."

"But we've got no ships. We don't even have any speeders or heavy weapons..."

"No," Han agreed. "But I'll tell you something – they ain't takin' us down without a fight."

"Actually, they're not taking us down at all," Luke added.

Han grinned at him. Ever since they'd met, Luke had treated the worst odds with the same attitude. If the Imperials had come here believing things were going to be easy, Luke would do his best to disappoint them.

The drone of the TIEs' sublight engines was louder now, but the ships were also cutting their speed. Whatever they were there for, a quick strafing run didn't seem to be on the agenda. The ships could've made light work of the chalet and outbuildings, razing the whole lot to smoking rubble in seconds, along with all their occupants.

Luke spoke quickly. "We need to warn Judd. Now the power's back, we can get his frequency from the medcenter."

"And we should tell the others to get into the bunker. There's no point Evlar's group getting involved. The Imperials aren't gonna be after them and there's a chance they might be able to ride this out," Han said.

"Jak should go with them. Whatever they're after, it's going to include him."

Jak shook his head. "This is my fight too. It has been all along. If you think I'm leaving you and Han to deal with it alone, you're wrong."

Han breathed out heavily with exasperation. "You know what?"

"What?"

He jerked a thumb towards Luke. "You're as stubborn as he is."

Jak didn't reply. He moved swiftly over to the transceiver, hitting the control panel to activate the screen. It was a buzz of interference. He bit his lip and threw switches for alternative channels, but every one was the same.

"They're jamming us," he muttered.

Han had thumbed on his comlink, trying to get hold of Wedge, but he met the same continuous hiss of broad-spectrum frequency blocking.

Luke looked over Jak's shoulder at the screen. "Your console works on some pretty strange channels. Wouldn't they have to know them to jam them?"

Jak nodded. "Yes. And I'm wondering just _how_ they know them."

There wasn't time to think about that now, and no more time to try finding a way through the block. Abandoning the console, they returned to the main room. Luke crouched down low beneath the side window, studying the TIEs through the half-closed shutters. The ships were circling above, covering all possible exits from the enclosure. Even with transport, Luke realized they wouldn't have got very far. Then, above the drone of the ion engines, he heard a new sound. The deep roar of a different type of engine. A larger ship was approaching. "Something's about to land," he noted.

Jak shook his head, aghast. "There isn't anywhere to land."

"They're doing it anyway."

Han and Jak joined Luke at the window, and together they listened to the vessel's thrusters kicking in. The stench of crushed, burning vegetation wafted in through the shutters.

"I guess now we get to find out what's really going on," Luke murmured.

They studied the ship as it powered down. It was some kind of modified shuttle. Small, but heavily armored, with twin-mounted laser cannons and battle-scarred durasteel plating. Nobody came out of it.

"What're they _doing_?" Han asked, tension tightening his voice.

"Waiting for something else?" Luke shifted his position, trying to get a clearer view of the outbuildings.

Luke's guess was proved accurate only moments later, when the sound of a second set of sublight engines drifted into the chalet. This was a smaller craft, less well armed, but still capable of delivering serious damage to the enclosure and its buildings. They watched it lower itself vertically and settle just within the boundary of Jak's land. Simultaneously, the boarding ramps to both vessels began to lower, but still no one appeared. Instead, an amplified voice rang out across the plots.

"You are sealed in. We have the whole area covered, and can reduce this place to dust in seconds. We're not interested in the group from Fiore unless you force us to take an interest."

"That's Moff Blaine," Luke said in a low voice. "I'm surprised he had the guts to come out here himself."

"Yeah, well he's not takin' much of a risk is he?" Han said. "I guess he's got enough troops in there to do his dirty work."

"Who d'you think's in the other ship?"

"More of the same, probably. And if they're staying in there, we're not gonna get a chance to do much damage."

Blaine's voice called out again. "The easiest way is for everyone to come out of the buildings. Then we won't need to hurt anyone unnecessarily."

"Generous of him," Han scoffed.

"But if you choose to make things difficult, we'll be forced to use a different approach," Blaine continued.

Jak rolled his eyes. "They'll just kill us all anyway. Makes no difference if we go out or they come in and get us."

Han was thoughtful. "I'm not so sure. If they wanted to kill us they'd have just blown us apart. We might have to play along, gain ourselves some time."

"What, go out there?"

"If we have to. Somehow, we've gotta draw 'em out." Han tried his comlink again, but nothing had changed. He switched it off in disgust. "Where the hell _is_ Judd anyway?"

Luke glanced at him with a small frown before turning to Jak. "Your transceiver works outside the standard military frequencies as well as civilian ones?"

Jak nodded. "Yes, and it should have an intercept to prevent jamming. Paranoia makes you over-cautious," he added with a degree of self-derision.

"Hey, I'd do exactly the same. It's just odd that the Imperials have got through your protection so easily."

Jak stared at him. "You're really asking me who knows the codes, aren't you?"

"I hate all this accusation and suspicion as much as you do. But it's hard to know who to trust sometimes."

"I know. But there's only me and Elina. If I need to speak to anyone else, she fetches them to her console, or sets up a conference link through a separate channel. Like I said, paranoia..."

Luke's frown had deepened. "There's someone on the inside in all of this. Someone who knew more than Velerrin could've known alone. Like, how did Velerrin know Han and I were in the medcenter? How did he get through the security systems there? There are too many things that don't add up, unless someone with more knowledge was feeding it to him. And there's something else–"

Luke broke off, startled by a sudden change in pitch of the hum of the TIEs' engines. "Something's happening."

They watched as two TIEs broke off from the main group, banking down slowly past the cliff face. They dived, then pulled up, letting loose several short bursts of green fire. They'd aimed high to inflict damage rather than destruction. The sound of shattering transparisteel and disintegrating duracrete gave way to a thick, choking dust that billowed out across the enclosure. Evlar emerged, coughing and bending almost double in an effort to clear his lungs. Four of his team followed suit, moving warily and sticking closely together.

"Drop your weapons and move further out," Blaine ordered. "Don't bother trying anything stupid."

Evlar glanced up at the two TIEs hovering low above the workshops. He nodded tersely at his companions, and together they flung their blasters to the ground and walked slowly away from the smoking building.

Immediately, a squad of stormtroopers emerged from Blaine's shuttle. The majority formed an armed barrier around Evlar and his teammates, whilst the others collected the scattered blasters.

Horrified, Jak whispered to Luke. "We're not just gonna give up are we? I'd rather die than get taken."

"Don't worry, we're not gonna give up, but we might have to make it seem that way," Luke said. "We're probably going to have to go out there sooner or later, because they'll start killing people if we don't. But they don't want us dead, and going out might get us some extra time to work something out."

"How're we gonna work anything out against all those TIEs and two armed ships? And those stormtroopers?" Jak clutched suddenly at Luke's arm. A second squad was coming out of the shuttle, this time accompanied by a thin, graying officer, his rank tubes classifying him as a Moff. Flanked by stormtroopers, he walked over to where Evlar and his four colleagues waited.

"Solo and Druso!" Blaine called out. "I suggest you come out and join us. It'd be a pity to destroy another perfectly good building. And bring your Alliance friends with you."

"Now what?" Jak asked.

"Wedge and the others must be in the second outbuilding. If he sees me go out, he'll probably come out too. I can't see Blaine wanting to hang around. Someone's been feeding him information, so he's also gonna know that back-up could arrive any minute."

Blaine's next announcement confirmed Han's remarks. "We start shooting very soon. The choice is yours."

"They've not left us much of a choice," Jak said. "But they haven't mentioned Luke."

"If their informant's updating them regularly, I'd say that's just a matter of time," Luke said. "I–"

"You're stayin' here," Han said. "They don't know about you yet, so we've got an advantage."

"He's asked for me too," Jak noted.

"Stay with Luke."

"But what'll you say to Blaine?"

"I'll think of something." Han turned to Luke, hesitated a second, and made as though to speak.

Luke gave him a hint of a smile, but it did little to counteract the disquiet in his eyes "Best go."

"Yeah." Han touched Luke's cheek briefly. "See you around."

"Count on it."

 

Han walked slowly down the steps of the chalet. Almost simultaneously, Wedge and the remaining two members of Evlar's group filed out of the other outbuilding, throwing their weapons to the ground.

The stormtroopers stood back, letting Han walk clear of the building before surrounding him. Even though the Imperials had a clear advantage in terms of numbers, they were taking no chances. They marched Han across to join Evlar and his friends. More troopers escorted Wedge and the others over. Han threw a sideways glance at Wedge, keeping his expression neutral. Wedge adopted the same, impassive, look.

Blaine confronted them. "Where's Druso?" He cast his eye over the group of captives. "There's someone else missing too."

"I sent one of my men to find some transport. Druso went with him. He's the only one who knows this area well enough," Wedge explained.

Blaine opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, a voice called out from the open ramp of the smaller ship. "Druso hasn't gone anywhere. He'll be with Skywalker. I suggest you find them very soon."

For a moment, Han felt as though everything had turned white, anger clouding his vision and catching in his chest, making his heart beat an erratic rhythm against his ribs. The point of no return, where he would lose all control and destroy any hopes they had of getting through this intact, was far too close. He forced himself to focus on the safety of everyone else involved, allowing himself only a second to regain his balance. Red spots still seemed to flicker in front of his eyes, and he could hear his pulse pounding inside his head.

He turned slowly towards the voice, watching its owner make his way purposefully through the plots. Despite the years that'd passed he'd have recognized him anywhere. Deliberately, he forced his clenched fingers to relax, but inside Han had started to wonder if, this time, their luck had run out. Velerrin had outdone them at every turn.

He kept his voice rigidly controlled. "Nice of you to join us. Or did you just get bored of playing by yourself?"

Velerrin's expression didn't change, but his eyes glittered with a familiar contempt. "I should make the most of your amusement Solo, because it won't last."

Blaine turned to Velerrin. "What do you mean, Druso's with Skywalker? I thought you had Skywalker secured. When we collected you–"

"Don't worry," Velerrin interrupted, his mouth set in a grim line. "He hasn't gone far. He's here somewhere and he'll come out, if we give him the right incentive."

"You'd better be right," Blaine growled. "Shall we use Solo then?"

"No!" Velerrin snapped. "One of the others." He pointed to Wedge. "He'll do."

Blaine gestured to three of the surrounding stormtroopers, and instantly they closed in on Wedge, two of them taking his arms, the other shoving the barrel of a blaster in his back. The troopers pushed Wedge forwards until they stood, isolated, in the center of the clearing.

"Skywalker!" Blaine shouted. "I know you can see this. I'm giving you one minute to get out here. And Druso comes out with you."

***

The instant he'd heard Velerrin's voice, Luke had closed his eyes for a moment, searching inwardly for the means to remain calm. When he'd looked up, he'd found Jak staring at him.

"Who...?"

"It's Velerrin," Luke confirmed. He studied Jak, noting how he'd suddenly managed to eradicate all traces of emotion from his face. Presumably he'd learned, as Luke had too, that hiding your true feelings was one of the most effective forms of protection.

They watched in grim silence as stormtroopers led Wedge out into the open, and listened as Blaine made his announcement.

"Okay," Luke said. "We're going out there. Stay close, and be ready. Try to keep behind me."

"What're you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," Luke admitted. "We need to find out what they're gonna do with us."

Luke pushed the door of the chalet open with his foot, making sure he was visible to the stormtroopers holding Wedge. "We're coming out!" he called.

"Make it slow, Skywalker," Blaine warned. "No tricks, or you can start saying goodbye to your friends."

As Luke and Jak emerged into the open, another two squads of stormtroopers appeared from the second ship, closing around them in a tight formation. Raising heavy-duty repeaters, they gestured for Jak and Luke to move forwards.

From across the enclosure, Han gave a derisory laugh. "Got you scared, has he Blaine? It takes twenty troopers to stop your jitters?"

Luke caught Han's eyes across the space, exchanging a brief moment of shared disquiet. They were so heavily outnumbered that getting clear of this was going to take more than simple ingenuity.

"Throw your weapons down," Blaine commanded. "And you," he pointed at Luke, "do it carefully."

Luke and Jak complied, placing their blasters and Luke's lightsaber down on the ground.

"Now move away from them!" Satisfied, Blaine addressed Velerrin again. "Can we get this thing finished so we can leave?"

"Soon," Velerrin replied calmly. "I'll keep my part of the bargain if you keep yours." He walked over to the circle of troopers surrounding Jak and Luke. He stared at Luke for some time, an expression close to gratification on his face, before turning his eyes on Jak.

Beside him, Luke could feel Jak tense up under Velerrin's gaze, and could sense the anger and barely-restrained agitation battling against Jak's need for self-control.

"So we get to meet in person at last," Velerrin said. "You must find it strange that in such a vast galaxy, it's nearly impossible to hide yourself away."

"I don't think it's me who's been hiding," Jak replied.

"But it's of no consequence now, is it? I've achieved what I set out to do."

Jak gave a short, mocking laugh. "What was that then? Senseless murder and petty revenge? And for what? Don't pretend it's got anything to do with loyalty to Tarkin. He just used you to further his own career, then pushed you aside when things got tricky."

"But Tarkin left me the perfect bargaining tool. For me, that's adequate reward."

"Tarkin owed us all equally!" The exclamation came from beyond the smoldering remains of the damaged outbuilding.

Both Velerrin and Jak stilled, but whilst Jak's face turned even paler, Velerrin's developed a blotchy flush of anger.

Kerul Talyn walked quickly, skirting around the shards of transparisteel that now littered the ground. When he reached their group he let his gaze slide slowly across Luke, finally coming to rest on Jak. "I always keep my promises," he said, "no matter how long it takes."


	24. Chapter 24

Out there in the open, trapped by the cliff face and the encroaching jungle, the sticky moisture hung in the air, as still and silent as the moments that greeted Talyn's arrival. Yet beneath the blanket of heat Luke felt a creeping chill that came from within, triggered by memories that refused to diminish.

It was as if he'd met Talyn before. But the feeling came not from any genuine knowledge of Talyn, but from recognition of the man's nature. Talyn had a ruthlessness that matched that of Velerrin, but where Velerrin had taken his resentment to something beyond logic, Talyn retained a level of detachment that threatened to replace Luke's resolve with a new, but not unfamiliar, uncertainty.

Talyn was angry and the aura of fury emanating from him was almost palpable, but Luke felt it as a cold rage, perfectly contained. Velerrin, in thrall to the same anger, would've struck out with violence, alleviating his emotions with cathartic sadism, and in many ways that was easier to deal with. Talyn, though clearly no stranger to inflicting pain, would have preferred to exploit the fear of its possibility, rather than its crude implementation. Even if he'd known nothing of Talyn's past, and nothing of Jak's experiences, Luke would've identified Talyn for what he was. He'd have understood that Talyn's skills lay in his ability to uncover the psychological fears that his victims had buried as deeply as they were able.

And in the silent seconds after Talyn had spoken to Jak, Luke saw how easy it was to resurrect barriers once developed out of sheer necessity. And it wasn't just himself; Luke could feel a similar resolve settle itself around Jak, and in Jak's response to Talyn, Luke caught a precise echo of his own past defiance ... _you're wasting your time..._

"You'll be wasting your time. Just like before," Jak said.

Talyn didn't answer, turning instead to Velerrin. "You tried to double-cross me."

A muscle twitched in Velerrin's cheek, but the flush of anger was fading from his face. "Perhaps you've forgotten what you did to me thirteen years ago?"

"I did my job. You should've concentrated on the things that mattered, not let yourself get swept away on some ridiculous personal feud."

"Without me, you'd have known nothing of any real value."

"If Tarkin had discovered what you told me during interrogation, he'd have had you killed with no compunction. You have me to thank for keeping you alive."

Velerrin's eyes darkened with renewed rage. "Don't pretend that your actions were honorable. That whole charade was nothing but a cover-up for your own private schemes, and how do you imagine Tarkin would've reacted if he'd found out? If you hadn't been so focused on Druso, you'd have realized that I've never needed anything from you."

"You're forgetting something. I've helped to set everything up – without me you'd have got nowhere. For one thing, it was me who gave you Kovo's whereabouts."

"But it's _you_ who wants the information I obtained from her. And it's you who needs Druso–"

Jak interrupted the exchange, confusion heavy in his voice. "After all these years, what more can you possibly want from me?"

Talyn looked back at Jak, and seemed to notice for the first time how closely he stood to Luke. "Move away from Skywalker," he said.

Jak didn't move, and Luke forced himself to remain still. The urge to shield Jak from Talyn was a physical impulse that almost drove him to break through the circle of stormtroopers in order to shove Talyn back.

"Move away from Skywalker!" The repeated command was sharp this time, and the dangerous edge to Talyn's voice was clear. Around the enclosure, the stormtroopers gripped their blasters more tightly, some of them glancing up at the sky.

Jak stepped backwards slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on Talyn. "You haven't answered me."

"You're hardly in a position to demand an answer," Talyn said. "But after all these years, I'm finally going to get some answers from you."

"Nothing's changed. I never knew anything about my parents' experiments, and I _still_ know nothing."

"Oh, believe me, something's changed. Now we've finally taken back what Kovo stole from the Prystyn labs, things will be very different."

Jak closed his eyes briefly. When he spoke, his voice had roughened with anger. "So which one of you killed her then? Was it Velerrin, 'cause he couldn't deal with the fact that she'd got away? Or you, after Velerrin told you about her?"

Talyn gave a tight smile. "Velerrin didn't need to tell me about her. You see, I already knew everything there was to know. Just as I knew, all along, the true nature of what was going on in your parents' laboratories. It was Velerrin who was in the dark. And Tarkin, at first. He had no real idea of the value of the research that eluded him. As it was, his interference helped to undermine the stability of the galaxy."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. The Druso toxin was an interesting formula. In its basic form it behaved exactly as a poison should behave. But the name is misleading isn't it? As a toxin, it was dangerous enough to warrant the high levels of secrecy surrounding it, and valuable enough to generate Imperial interest. But its use would always have been limited. Think how much more the Empire could have done with something more... virulent. Something like the cyrovillium virus."

Jak was silent for a long moment. "That virus was eradicated from the galaxy over seventy years ago," he said. "No-one in their right mind would ever try to bring it back."

"You're a scientist. You of all people understand that some things never disappear, they merely evolve. And if you're still determined to pretend ignorance, allow me to tell you a story."

Moff Blaine made a sharp noise of protest. "There's no need to discuss this further. We should leave here now."

Velerrin had been watching Talyn from behind narrowed eyes. Now he turned his gaze on Blaine. "Stop worrying. There will be no interruptions. I can guarantee it."

Luke could feel the tension between Velerrin and Talyn, like a wire stretched so taut it was almost at breaking point. Moff Blaine's agitation was adding to the overall sense of urgency and causing a degree of restlessness amongst his troopers that might just make them careless. He took a quick, covert look around, noting the continual upward glances that the stormtroopers made. At the same time understanding hit him, causing a slow, churning unease deep inside. Now he knew exactly what Velerrin meant by that guarantee.

Blaine still believed that Alliance back-up could arrive any moment. It explained his edginess, especially as the small number of fighters he'd been able to bring in wouldn't be a genuine threat to Judd and the Alliance ships. But Velerrin knew, just as Luke now did, that back-up wasn't going to come. There would be no Judd, and no ships sent by Madine. Effectively, they were on their own.

And that wasn't all. Whatever Blaine said to the contrary, there was no possibility that he'd allow any of them to leave here. And the transports brought in by Blaine were too small to take everyone. Blaine had claimed no interest in the Swelvarne Front, and Luke was sure that was true. They'd been irrelevant to the plans. A smokescreen, conveniently used to add another element to the confusion surrounding everything. Whether Talyn had known that or not didn't matter any more. For those Blaine didn't intend taking away, there would be no escape.

"The final outbreak of the cyrovillium virus was on Alamyyr, back in the days of the Old Republic," Talyn was saying. "In order to destroy the virus forever, the planet was sealed off. No-one left, and no-one arrived. The entire population sacrificed itself for the purpose of eliminating the virus. It took thirty years. Except not everyone died. One small group of survivors remained. Children, born during the final years of the pandemic. The first scientific monitoring team to arrive found them. The children had to remain on Alamyyr, of course, and spent most of their lives undergoing tests. The scientists studying the survivors pointed to one similarity between them all. A unique, extra link in their genetic make-up. A mutation."

"It enabled them to survive the virus," Jak said.

"So you _do_ understand what I'm saying, after all," Talyn stated, a clear note of victory in his voice. "And you'll know that no further progress was made with that research until the first years of the Empire, when two of the galaxy's leading geneticists were asked to investigate."

Jak gave a small sigh, barely audible to those around him. Luke heard it, and detected beneath it a mixture of disbelief and acceptance. He guessed that the extent of Talyn's knowledge had come as a surprise to Jak, and that it was also information that Jak was unable to refute.

"My parents were hoping to work out how the children survived the virus," Jak explained. "They wanted to produce an antidote in case the virus ever resurfaced..."

"And they managed to isolate the genetic code that enabled them to reconstruct the virus. Because – of course – they needed a live virus to create a counteragent."

"I... don't understand how you know any of this. You weren't involved in my parents' interrogation. The Empire kept the research highly secret – even from its own scientists."

"If Tarkin had given me the task of interrogating your parents, the Empire would've had a much more effective weapon at its disposal than a flawed battle-station."

"They never would've told you anything! And there was nothing to tell. The virus they created was faulty. After one transmission it died. What use would it've been to the Empire?"

Talyn gave a short laugh. "So some of what you told me was true. You don't know very much. But you _did_ know the Druso toxin was the cyrovillium virus in another form. You kept that information from me."

"And you never asked," Jak said quietly.

"Talyn was protecting his own self-interests," Velerrin scoffed, throwing a contemptuous glance at Talyn. "He was biding his time, playing it safe. But then the GRF moved you to Peshtin, and he couldn't get near you."

"Not at first," Talyn agreed. "But I managed even that in the end."

Luke studied Jak's expression, looking for a sign that he'd begun to understand what Luke himself had realized. But the frown Jak wore showed merely puzzlement rather than any knowledge of betrayal. Luke sighed inwardly. He wanted to warn Jak of what was to come, but he was conscious of the danger in denying both Talyn and Velerrin their pleasure in the disclosures. As he'd already discovered, Velerrin was too unpredictable and too unstable to risk antagonizing. Luke warned himself to remain patient, accepting that both Talyn's and Velerrin's need to prolong the encounter was giving him what he'd hoped for. More time.

"As for how I knew about the research, the answer lay in someone you were closely connected to," Talyn explained to Jak. "You see, one of the survivors of the Alamyyr infection escaped. Made her way out into the galaxy and disappeared. Some years later, she resurfaced when she crashed her ship on Borsuin. Unfortunately for her, Borsuin was an Imperial stronghold. Her injuries required an analysis of her blood type, which triggered a high security alert on the medcenter's computer. The Empire was able to pick her up, and handed her over to me for questioning. She refused to give details of her life after escaping Alamyyr. It was a futile attempt to protect her family, because in those days there was very little I wasn't able to find out."

Jak nodded slowly, comprehension in his eyes. The anger was still there in his voice when he spoke. "So that's how you did it. I always thought it was Tarkin who had the hold over Bereljia, but it was you. What did you do? Force her to participate in experiments as a price for keeping her mother alive?"

Talyn shrugged. "It was hardly that simple. The experiments went ahead in any case. The Prystyn labs didn't need the mother because they already had all the samples they needed, and they'd no idea the daughter existed at first. Because the Genetic Research Foundation wanted the research kept secret, that meant my involvement was officially over. So yes, I approached Bereljia Kovo. Gave her a story, and made a life for her in the Prystyn flatlands, and she in turn began to work her way into the lives of the Drusos. When Tarkin began expressing an interest in the Drusos, I was able to set him up with a contact. She knew everything, but her deal was with me, not with Tarkin."

"So... you told her about the raid? What did you ask her to do? Secure a copy of the data before Velerrin destroyed it?"

Talyn's eyes hardened at the memory. "The raid was brought forward. She had very little time to act. But it enabled her to do what damage she could."

Jak smiled, for the first time showing genuine amusement. "And she betrayed you. Both you _and_ Tarkin. You thought you knew everything about her, but you knew nothing about where her loyalties lay."

Talyn stared back at Jak. "Do you think you're a good judge of loyalty then?"

Inwardly, Luke flinched. He tried to stop his words, but couldn't help himself. It was pointless, because he was only delaying the inevitable moment when Jak would know the truth. "Tarkin wasn't a good judge of loyalty either, was he?" he pointed out. "After all, you were one of Tarkin's three spies weren't you?"

Talyn turned to face Luke and gave a small shrug. "Tarkin used me as much as I used him. Loyalty is overrated, as Velerrin found out to his cost."

"If you hadn't kept the information from Tarkin, the raid might not have gone ahead," Luke pointed out.

"It would've made no difference. Whatever Tarkin thought the Drusos were doing, he knew it involved something that might upset his own plans. And I did tell him eventually."

Luke nodded. "Tarkin got suspicious didn't he? Han Solo turns up on Velerrin's ship, and Velerrin takes too much interest in him. And he started wondering just how Bereljia Kovo knew about the raid."

"Tarkin was suspicious of everyone and trusted no-one, but he refused to consider the idea of disloyalty from Velerrin. At least, he didn't until I gave him something to think about."

"All you gave him were lies," Velerrin spat. "Just as you gave me. A stupid little conspiracy theory centering on Kovo and Solo. You made it out to be something it wasn't, making Tarkin believe it stemmed from Coruscant. There never was a real connection, but you made damned sure Tarkin thought there was. And all the time, it was _you_ who had the only connection to Kovo."

"Look at it from my point of view," Talyn replied smoothly. "You led the raid. And some time later, a lieutenant turns up on board your ship who'd not only spent part of his childhood at Kovo's shipyard, but ended up in Ghandine befriending the very same person that escaped from the Prystyn labs with Kovo. Did you expect me to believe in a straightforward coincidence? And you pointed the finger at yourself, because you were so obsessed with pursuing your own little vendetta against Solo."

"So was _I_ expected to believe in coincidence then? And there are ways other than torture to obtain information."

"It has its uses. I doubt you'd have admitted your allegiance to Tarkin in any other way."

Moff Blaine looked anxiously at his chrono. "I promised you a few moments. This whole conversation is a waste of time. If the two of you have grievances to discuss, you can save them for a more convenient time. From now on, we should stick to the plan."

"There's going to be a slight alteration to the plan," Velerrin stated calmly. His expression had changed yet again, this time taking on an aura of triumph that was more disturbing than his former anger.

Talyn stilled visibly, adopting an almost predatory attentiveness, clearly aware that Velerrin was about to reveal just what facts he'd kept from him. "What alteration?" he demanded. "Does this have something to do with the trap you presumably tried to set for me? Pity for you that it didn't work, and I don't frighten easily. Whatever game you think you're playing, we made a deal and I intend to complete it."

From all around the enclosure, Luke could sense an increased disquiet, everyone gathered there knowing that things were approaching their conclusion. The heat had become even more intense, bringing with it a lack of air that made breathing an effort of will. Luke could feel each breath as a sharp stab of discomfort that had become more pronounced as he'd stood there. Tiny flickers of blackness seemed to dance behind his eyes, and he wondered, with a twist of alarm, just how much of Velerrin's drug remained in his bloodstream. He blinked, willing the rising dizziness away, knowing that Han was watching him with sudden anxiety.

Velerrin let out a short bark of laughter at Talyn's words. "You haven't got it yet, have you?"

"I suggest you explain," Talyn growled.

"Bereljia Kovo. She gave up everything to prevent the Empire getting hold of the genetic code for the cyrovillium virus. You expected her to just hand it over to me?"

"You told me you'd obtained it from her. You used the threat against Solo's and Druso's lives to persuade her." Talyn's voice had turned ominously quiet.

"And I lied to you. Just as you lied to me all those years back. Your power games caused me physical damage. You destroyed my health and my career."

"Nobody's career survived the fall of the Empire! This is our chance to put things right. Give control back to those who deserve it."

"You, you mean?"

"At least my aims have always been high and my intentions clear."

Jak cut in, his tone derisive. "Yes, your intentions have always been clear to me. Torture, imprisonment and murder are simple enough concepts."

"The end justifies the means. The stability of the galaxy has always been more important than a few individuals."

"You really believe that, don't you?" Jak continued, amazed. "Everything you've done has been for the good of the galaxy?"

Talyn ignored him, turning a level gaze back on Velerrin. "I don't believe you. Kovo must've told you something. You wouldn't have killed her otherwise."

"Yes, she told me something," Velerrin said, reveling in his small moment of victory. "She told me that the data she'd taken was meaningless. Because Tarkin changed the timing of the raid so suddenly, she'd had no time to warn the Drusos. She copied large chunks of data from the lab computers, deleted the original files, and left a trail showing what she'd done. She thought the Empire would never kill the Drusos whilst part of the genetic formula was out of reach – the Empire would've needed their expertise to reconstruct the missing parts. But she didn't know Tarkin's real reason for the raid, and that he had no intention of letting the Drusos live."

"So Bereljia set herself up as bait," Jak said, trying to stamp out the pain in his voice. "Made it seem like she was the missing link. She once promised my parents that she'd try to keep me safe if their connection to the rebels ever came out."

Talyn threw Jak an impatient glance, then turned his attention back to Velerrin. "What do you mean, the data was meaningless? She took the crucial code needed to reconstruct the virus."

Velerrin shook his head. "The virus was never reconstructed. Everything Bereljia Kovo reported to you was an invention. The Prystyn rebel group used the Drusos' status and access to Imperial research to their advantage, and both Kovo and the Drusos were in it up to their necks. Traitors, all of them."

"But the research _did_ exist. You had part of it created, here on Jarodine."

"I've had nothing created. Only the tale I told you. The Drusos studied the genetic mutation shown by the Alamyyr survivors, but they believed the risks involved outweighed any possible benefits. Their clinical trials were a fabrication."

Talyn stared at Velerrin for a long time before speaking, as if trying to determine the extent of truth in what Velerrin had revealed. "You tricked me into believing that a toxin had been created. The whole plan hinged on the understanding that I would have access to Druso _and_ the missing data. The agreement with Blaine was based on trading the details of the research."

"The deal I made with Blaine didn't involve the Druso toxin," Velerrin said mildly. "That was your bargain with him. I have something else to trade."

"If you're talking about Tarkin's database, then the three of us have equal rights to say–"

"Enough of this!" Blaine broke in, his expression furious. He turned to address Talyn directly. "Why was Kovo never brought in after she'd escaped? You said you'd known of her whereabouts. We'd have got the truth out of her soon enough."

Talyn shrugged. "Kovo was clever. She stayed one step ahead of us. Even had surgery to change her appearance. By the time I caught up with her, the Empire had lost its way."

Blaine's frown deepened. "So what happens now? I was promised access to this so-called weapon of yours, and now I'm told it never existed."

"If it never existed, then..." Talyn broke off, suspicion darkening his features. "Is this still part of your ridiculous revenge?" he demanded, looking hard at Velerrin. "You'll make me believe the data doesn't exist, then you'll sell the formula to the highest bidder? Because if it never existed, what did you use to kill Kovo and the others?"

"That had nothing to do with the Druso toxin. But it _was_ Druso who provided the means to do it."

"I... what are saying?" Jak asked.

Velerrin's eyes held a glint of satisfaction. "Your research into the pherolite serum is fascinating."

Jak stared at him, his eyes widening with shocked understanding. "You took the serum? But it's... we haven't finished the tests. It's too dangerous." Jak gave a small shake of his head, accepting the sheer futility of his protest.

Velerrin nodded. "Fatal too, given in sufficient quantity. And after a very short while, undetectable. Very convenient. I congratulate you."

"But how did you..." Jak stopped. Slowly, he turned to Luke, his eyes full of anguish.

"That's how he got to you isn't it? That's how he knew you were there." He waved a hand, indicating the enclosure. "All this. She knew everything. She told him everything. And all the drugs..."

Luke nodded, remaining silent. Even if he'd had the time and the opportunity to offer it, no amount of sympathy was going to alter the hard truth of the betrayal Jak was facing.

"You'd started to work it out, hadn't you? When you asked me about the frequency codes?"

"I didn't know for sure. But there were too many connections to the medcenter."

Jak shook his head in denial. "I don't understand it."

"Talyn needed someone to get close to you. Someone who could go to the Peshtin Institute and work alongside you. Someone who would fit in. Tarkin knew someone who would be perfect. Remember, there were three of them – Tarkin's spies. Velerrin, Talyn... and Elina Breya."

Jak stared back at him in horror. "She was working for them. All the time we were together, she was on their side. All those years... they never gave up, did they?"


	25. Chapter 25

It was taking all his willpower to appear calm, when all he could see was Jak's bewilderment. He kept his voice even, belying the fact that his mind was furiously calculating the odds of success.

"What are you going to do with us?"

"I'm surprised you've not worked it out yet, Skywalker," Velerrin replied.

"Delusions are a little hard to figure out sometimes."

"What Moff Blaine chooses to do with the group from Swelvarne is his business. I'm sure he'll have an interest in your Alliance friend though."

Luke glanced across at Wedge, still isolated from the rest of the group, and wondered, yet again, what had happened to Wes. Wedge gave him a small, casual shrug in return, but Luke knew he was as tense as everyone else. And he was waiting.

"As for you and Druso, I do, of course, have plans for you both."

"That's hardly news," Luke said. "But if you're just going to kill us, why bother to go to such trouble? You could've killed either of us before."

"I'm sure you realize this isn't about killing."

"No – it's about revenge for your imaginary conspiracies."

"There's nothing imaginary about the trouble you've caused. And regardless of what happened in the past, I hold Solo responsible for a large part of it. He interfered in things he had no right to interfere in."

"And you couldn't keep control on board your ship. Your behavior made Talyn suspicious in the first place."

"Which brings us back to Solo," Velerrin said.

Luke had discovered before that arguing with Velerrin was futile. His obsession had taken too much of a hold, and no amount of reason that Luke could throw at him was going to alter Velerrin's perception of the past.

"So now you have Han, you think you've set everything right again?"

"Not quite yet. Tell me – what do you think Solo's worst fear is? His own death?"

"Hardly."

"Oh, I agree. For one thing, he's so arrogant I doubt he'd even see it coming. But you see, I take an interest in what goes on beneath the public news channels. I know the whereabouts of all the Imperial splinter groups. And I know who's running them. It must've disappointed a lot of people, the fact that you got away from Talandir."

Han's voice rang out angrily across the space that divided the two groups of encircled captives. "Wherever you're going with this Velerrin, you're likely to regret it."

Velerrin twisted round to study Han. "Interesting threat Solo, but I don't think you're really in a position to cause me much anxiety. And you've helpfully just answered my question for me."

He turned back to Luke. "Governor Feltran was an amateur. An out-of-control maverick who failed because he refused to ally with other Imperial factions. If he'd taken you to Gamorr instead, you'd still be there."

Luke nodded. "So is that your plan – sending me there? It doesn't sound very imaginative."

Velerrin gave a cool smile. "I've had to revise my plans slightly because of your interference, but the basic deal remains the same. I have two things to trade with Moff Blaine. You, and the database."

Luke glanced around the enclosure. "It looks to me like Moff Blaine already has me. Something else you didn't manage to control."

"You're playing with words Skywalker. The value of the database is immense, and Moff Blaine knows he needs to collaborate with me, or he risks losing it."

"There are other methods of obtaining it. Or at least, the details of where it is," Talyn put in, his quiet words underlined with menace.

It drew another short laugh from Velerrin. "Don't threaten me Talyn. I've put so many safeguards in place that nobody can access the database without me, and only then with my _willing_ co-operation. After that, I'll transfer ownership, but rest assured I'll be maintaining my own, permanent, safety net. As I'm sure you'll agree, it's difficult to know who to trust."

"You don't own the database. We all contributed to it equally!" Talyn snapped.

"I created it. And you've already made it clear that you put the security of the galaxy before your own ambitions. The database will be of greatest use in the hands of the largest contingent of loyalists, and I would imagine you'd want to assist Moff Blaine in any way you can. Or haven't you been as upfront with your motives as you claim?" With a last, mocking look at Talyn, Velerrin returned his attention to Luke. "With the information I've collected, your Alliance will fall apart in a matter of months."

"I'm surprised you're supporting Blaine. The Empire didn't exactly treat you well," Luke commented. "Or do you get something extra out of it?"

"For you, I get the price I asked for. I'm exchanging you for Solo. Or rather, I've bought Solo's freedom. An Imperial amnesty, backed by Blaine's guarantee. Simple isn't it?"

A low rumble of surprise spread through the assembled stormtroopers. Whatever they'd expected, it hadn't been that. But as Luke stared at Velerrin he had to agree that it was, in fact, very simple. Unlike Talyn's plans, which stemmed from a quest for power, the foundation of Velerrin's scheme was revenge. It didn't really matter what he'd planned originally. Maybe Velerrin had once wanted to kill Han, or maybe he'd set out to expose Talyn's lies by hunting down all those who'd played some part in the Druso business or in Han's past. It was impossible to determine what Velerrin's original motivation had been, because now it had become something intensely personal. And because Luke had escaped, he'd turned himself into a more specific target. It wouldn't have been difficult for Velerrin to have deduced the nature of Han's greatest fears, especially in league with Elina Breya who would've witnessed Han's anger in the medcenter. Luke didn't need to try very hard to imagine how Han would feel about it all. For Velerrin it would be the perfect form of psychological revenge – for Han to live with the knowledge of how Velerrin had used him, and to know what the price had been for his freedom.

"And the database? What are you getting in return for that? Or is that simply about money?"

"Money is of little interest to me, and neither is power, which is what Talyn planned to buy for himself in exchange for the Druso toxin. I'm revising my price for the database. I get to make the final decision regarding Druso."

Luke frowned. "You've proved he's no longer useful to you. Why not let him go?"

"Druso turned out to be nothing more than a means to an end, but the satisfaction of drawing a line under this entire fiasco will compensate me for all the harm he's done. And it'll be another thing for Solo to dwell on."

"I'm still not convinced that Druso knows nothing. If you kill him, we'll lose our best opportunity to revive the research. I want another chance to question him," Talyn insisted.

Velerrin shook his head. "I've lived with Druso's name in my mind for over twenty years. It's time to end it."

"Oh, it doesn't end that easily Velerrin," Talyn warned. "Don't expect to mess with me and ignore the consequences."

Listening to Velerrin, Luke had started to rein in every stray emotion, centering himself on what he needed to do. They were still heavily outnumbered, but as that was unlikely to change, they had no other choice. He looked across the plots, caught Han's eyes, and cast a tiny, imperceptible glance at the ships. Empty and accessible, they offered a means of escape. It'd take just one signal from him, and Han would move, attempting to fight his way out of a seemingly impossible situation. But they'd done it before, and they did have a slight advantage. All the emotional mileage that Velerrin had attempted to extract from his revelations had left both Blaine and Talyn confused and angry. It was likely to have taken the edge off their concentration. It wasn't much, but it was all they had.

Movement out of the corner of his eye came at the same time as Jak's sharp intake of breath. Elina Breya, walking slowly down the ramp of the second Imperial ship, had a smile on her face that bore little resemblance to the expression she'd managed on the celebratory holo belonging to Jak. With all eyes fixed on her, Luke shook his head at Han, signaling him to wait. Breya's appearance had broken the concentration he needed.

She walked over towards them, and Luke moved fractionally closer to Jak, partly out of instinct, and partly as an opportunity to remind Jak to stay calm.

"Have you got it?" Velerrin asked her.

"Of course," she replied, eyeing the group of captives. She studied Luke with interest.

"The last Jedi, then." A cynical amusement lay beneath her words. "You defeated my little potions. I'm impressed. But I have a better one for you. To stop you giving us any unnecessary trouble on the way to Gamorr."

"I tend to cause more trouble when people try to drug me," Luke said.

"Not with this one." She turned to Jak, who was watching her with a quiet intensity, his eyes showing only a trace of his former confusion.

"You're lucky Jerik. You get to take part in your own trials." She pulled a small synthglass vial from her jacket pocket, and held the contents up to the light. The liquid inside was pale green and iridescent. "Ironic isn't it, that you should've produced something with symptoms so close to the imaginary toxin that's shadowed you all these years?"

"What's wrong with a blaster?" Jak asked, his tone scathing. "Too simple?"

"This way is more interesting." She pulled a small package from another pocket, inserted a slender needle into the top of the vial.

"I'm not going to bother asking you why," Jak said. "I don't care about me, but I do care about the others. Marika trusted you."

"No, she didn't," Breya returned. "Not in the end. Whenever she came over I'd notice her watching me and wondering. One reason why she had to go. It's disappointing that you turned out to know so little, because I've wasted a large part of my life on you." She signaled for two troopers to move over. They holstered their blasters and took hold of Jak's arms, keeping him still.

It was the slight diversion Luke needed. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, gathering in his concentration with practiced speed. Everything seemed to happen at once. Luke's lightsaber flew from the ground into his outstretched hand in an instant, igniting simultaneously. At the same time, the blasters flew from the hands of the stormtrooper guards surrounding them, strewing themselves about the plots, and clattering to the ground randomly. With barely time to notice what he'd done, Luke spun round to kick out at the two troopers holding Jak, leaving them doubled up and gasping. He yelled out to Jak to grab a blaster and to deal with Breya, but had no chance to turn and see if Jak had managed it.

Luke was counting on two things. To keep Velerrin happy, Blaine wouldn't want any accidents. He would've instructed his troopers to stun, not kill, and the settings on the blasters would hopefully reflect that. And then there was the heat. It was foolish of Moff Blaine to expect his squads to cope with the temperature and humidity of the swamps dressed in their full armor. Beneath their helmets, Luke imagined they were suffering, and any form of exertion would cause them problems. It should make things a little easier.

He heard Han's commands from across the plots, and registered the sight of Wedge tackling two stormtroopers to the ground, made ungainly in combat by their armor. Han was firing with his usual accuracy, not allowing the magnitude of their predicament to throw his aim or divert his attention from what needed to be done. The members of the Swelvarne Front were doing their best, but Luke saw two of them going down, the faint odor of burning an ominous sign that some of the blasters were set to kill.

Behind him, Jak was struggling with Elina Breya, and Luke could hear their gasps of exertion. It was difficult to glance upwards, concentrating as he had to on deflecting the fire from stormtroopers who'd recovered their blasters. But he needed to gauge their positions accurately, so he could send the laser blasts ricocheting back towards the troopers. That's when he saw the TIEs begin to move in.

"Quickly!" he called out, knowing there was no possibility of warding off blasts from the TIEs cannons. At the edge of his vision he saw Blaine making off towards the smaller ship, but neither he nor Han were in a position to stop him. A small, startled exclamation from behind him threw him for a second, and he glanced back.

Elina Breya had fallen to the ground, unconscious from the blast Jak had finally managed to deliver. Luke set aside his relief, aware that Jak had now become an open target.

"Stay behind me!" he yelled. "We're going for the shuttle."

For some reason, Jak didn't move, and Luke turned round again in alarm. Jak had sunk to his knees, his breath coming in short, painful gasps.

"Go," Jak insisted, his words labored. "She did it."

Luke saw the glint of the needle on the ground, and looked, shocked, at Jak's face. All color had leached from it, accentuating a spreading blue tinge that started around his lips.

"Can we stop it?" Luke shouted to him. He was struggling to maintain his concentration, and the stormtroopers seemed to have reached a decision to single him out. Those that remained were repelling Han and Wedge's fire as they covered Evlar and his group's retreat to the shuttle.

"In the workshop. But it's burning. No time."

Luke threw a rapid glance at the ruins of the workshop. "How long?"

"Three minutes." Jak's voice had weakened to the stage where it was barely audible.

As Luke continued to fend off laser blasts, he considered the options with lightning speed. There was no way he could make it to the outbuilding, locate the antidote, and repulse the blasts at the same time without leaving Jak where he was. And that wasn't an option.

That Han heard the sound the instant Luke heard it was obvious from the shout of astonishment that echoed around the enclosure. A thrill of disbelief and amazement shuddered though Luke, and he heard Wedge call out, equally astounded. It wasn't yet in sight, but all three of them had recognized the unmistakable sound of her engines.

"That's the _Falcon_!"

Weaving amongst the TIEs, the Falcon appeared, making light work of the Imperial ships' defensive fire. And she wasn't alone up there. A small group of X-wings had arrived, together with an unfamiliar gunboat. Two of the X-wings strafed the perimeter of the enclosure, sending bemused stormtroopers fleeing in all directions.

In the confusion, Luke seized his chance, grabbing Jak beneath the arms and hoisting him up. He half dragged and half carried him to the smoldering workshop, and pulled him inside the shelter of the doorway.

"Where is it?"

"Metal cupboard," Jak whispered. "Blue vial."

Coughing against the smoke, Luke sprinted to the far end of the workshop. The cupboard, backed by scorched boarding, gave off a thick wall of heat. Luke spent only a second looking around for something to lever the door open with, before giving up. He gritted his teeth in anticipation of the pain, and clasped the handle with his right hand. Already damaged, many of the pain receptors in the hand had already shut down, but there were still plenty of them active enough to feel sensation. And the delayed reaction of the hand's defense mechanism was sometimes too slow for comfort. It was a small price to pay for something as close to real as it was possible to get. Luke found the small blue vials, thankfully still intact despite the heat. He grabbed one, located a needle, and hurried back to Jak.

Jak had slumped down to the floor, his head angled back against the wall. His eyes were half-closed and his fists had clenched involuntarily, fighting the cramping agony the drug had induced.

Luke tore at the needle's packaging, and took a second to calm himself before inserting it into the vial.

"Where?"

"Into a vein."

"Gods," Luke muttered. He ripped the sleeve of Jak's shirt, going for the most obvious place. If he got it wrong...

But there was too little time left to worry over whether he was doing it right, and Luke was certain he must've hurt Jak like hell, stabbing the needle into the vein with so little finesse that a doctor would've been horrified. And it seemed to take forever to empty the contents of the vial down such a fine needle. He didn't even know if he was supposed to use all of it. By the time he'd finished, Jak's eyes had fully closed and his breathing was dangerously shallow. Luke felt a rising panic that he'd taken too long.

"Jak," he hissed. "Come on, Jak."

The moments of stillness seemed to stretch into infinity before Jak gave a short, barely perceptible, nod. He didn't open his eyes. "It's okay."

Luke hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, but now he released it, feeling light-headed from the combination of lack of oxygen and apprehension. "Sorry I was so rough. I've never done that before."

"No, it was brilliant. Didn't feel a thing," Jak said with an attempt at a grin.

"Yeah, I'll bet. I don't think I'll bother trying out for the medical profession."

Jak opened bleary eyes, struggling to focus on Luke. He reached out and touched Luke's arm. "Thanks. Can see why Han likes having you around."

"Well neither of us will be around for much longer if we don't get out of here. I think this place is gonna fall in on us any minute."

As Luke spoke, a fine shower of dust drifted down over them from the crumbling walls. Luke hauled himself up, holding out a hand to Jak. He wrapped an arm around Jak's waist and helped him out of the building.

In the distance, they could hear the ongoing battle in the air, but around them, other than scattered bodies, the place seemed deserted. Both ships had disappeared.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"I just need a few minutes."

They moved across to the intact outbuilding, and Jak leaned back against the wall. Luke watched him for a moment, and reached out to help as Jak slid slowly down the wall to the ground. He looked around, located a blaster and handed it to Jak. "Wait here."

Luke made his way cautiously across the enclosure, stopping besides the various prone bodies. He moved from one to the other, checking them over. Eventually, he hurried back to Jak.

"They were serious about not wanting to kill the wrong people. Most of the blasters were set on stun."

"Then we'd better be careful they don't start coming round," Jak pointed out.

"We've got about an hour," Luke explained. "I guess we could use your com-console again. Arrange to get these people picked up. Two of the guys from Fiore need medical attention."

"What about Elina? That blaster – I don't know what setting it was on."

"It was on stun. She's unconscious."

Jak was silent for a few seconds, then gave a small nod. "If you'd met her – at the medcenter – would you have realized?"

Luke shook his head. "I don't know."

"It wasn't easy at Peshtin. To have gone there voluntarily... She told me she'd escaped. I'd gone to the swamps – that's how I survived, because they killed all the prisoners at the Institute. After Endor."

"I know. Doctor Vilafii told us."

"I was... so happy when I found out she was alive. Not many of us made it." He gave a low sigh. "We gave everything away didn't we? The fact that you'd escaped, and that we were stuck here. It must've been her who released Velerrin. And I suppose she sent your friend from Coruscant to the wrong place." He focused again on Luke, changed the subject abruptly. "I don't know how you've kept going."

Luke smiled. "Your homemade remedies?"

"It's a lot more than that though, isn't it? I've never seen a Jedi before. What you did just now was... amazing. But you're nothing like I imagined a Jedi to be."

"I'm probably nothing like I'm supposed to be," Luke admitted.

"I thought they'd be remote. Sort of inaccessible. But I guess the stories I've heard don't mean very much."

"There are ways of blocking things off – things like emotions, and pain. It's not something I've ever been very good at, although I can do a good job of pretending. The Jedi of the stories had probably trained themselves to do that, and maybe it made them seem remote."

"Would you want to do it though?"

"There've been times in the past when I've wished I could – when I've given away too much. But no – it's not how I'd really want to be. It'd feel like I was cutting myself off from everyone else. I do that too much as it is."

Jak nodded. "I know what you mean." He wiped away a trickle of sweat from his forehead. "What's happened to everyone else?"

"Up there I guess." Luke gestured up at the sky.

"Was that Han's ship that came? How did it get here?"

Luke shrugged, gave him a grin. "Beats me." He studied Jak's face carefully. "Are you okay to move?"

"Sure. What's the plan?"

"Can you try contacting someone? Maybe Admiral Sallis at the Taramine base, 'cause we're gonna need military back-up and a fast transport to collect prisoners. And Doctor Vilafii too – we'll need her help and she'll be desperate for news."

"What about you?"

"I'm gonna check the place out. Make sure it's all clear." He straightened up and looked around. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough surprises for today."


	26. Chapter 26

The sense of danger was still there, present as a slight prickle at the base of his skull, and as small ripples in the Force that he'd learned to trust as warnings. The problem was, during the chaos of the fight and their subsequent rush to the outbuilding, neither Jak nor Luke had seen what had happened to Talyn and Velerrin. They'd disappeared as soon as the shooting began, and Luke was sure that they wouldn't have gone far. Velerrin, at least, wouldn't have given up so rapidly. With the means to exact his revenge almost in his grasp, he'd been deprived of the chance he'd worked towards for so long. Velerrin wouldn't relinquish the opportunity to grab something back, even if was just a simple thing like killing him or Jak outright.

He'd left Jak in the chalet, making sure the blasters he'd given him were fully charged. And Luke had warned him to keep his eye on the door and to stay alert. Even so it was a risk, leaving Jak alone like that, and it was making Luke more than usually anxious. But the fact remained that they needed some help, and Jak was better off sitting at the console rather than trailing through the plots with Luke. And if there was going to be any more trouble, Luke didn't want to sit and wait for it to come to him.

He walked warily, checking first the intact outbuilding, then the remains of the second one. He reached out with all his senses, drawing on the enhanced perception the Force gave him. He kept a part of his mind on the chalet – he'd know the instant anything startled Jak. Whether he could get back there in time was another matter.

Satisfied with his check on the buildings, Luke headed away towards the perimeter of the plots. The ships and the battle had flattened and destroyed many of the plants, but there were still areas of tall, thick greenery that masked his movements. He skirted around the edges of the section filled with the white descendents of the Prystyn flowers, which Velerrin had stolen and used to lay his false trail of lies and subterfuge. The perfume was strong and the air around them heavy. Even though Luke now knew that the plants, by themselves, were harmless, their scent would be forever linked with violent death and pointless suffering. He wondered if Jak had first produced them to remind him of happier, childhood days. He doubted they'd have the same, nostalgic memories for him now. The thought provoked a fierce determination. If Luke achieved anything today, he was going to make sure Jak got to live the rest of his life in freedom.

The new thrum of alarm in his blood was faint, but unmistakable. He crouched down low and listened hard. All he could hear was the slight rustle of leaves, and his own efforts to breathe easily. The sense that something was wrong was increasing, and he closed his eyes to help pinpoint the source of his foreboding. And then suddenly he was running, back though the plots and towards the chalet. He'd left the door closed, but now it was fractionally open.

Luke slowed, made the rest of the distance cautiously, struggling to silence his ragged breaths. He edged up against the door and studied the main room through the small gap. Velerrin was there, his thick-soled boots making no sound on the wooden floorboards. The ex-Imperial had slowed his breathing to be barely discernible, and his approach was careful and steady enough to be virtually silent. He was close to the doorway to the communications room, a blaster held ready in his right hand.

Luke could hear Jak talking at the console, and the responding voice sounded like Linu Vilafii's. In a way, that was a good thing, because although it meant Jak was not as alert as he might have been to small unexpected sounds, it provided a slight diversion. Velerrin would be listening closely to Jak's voice, ensuring that his quarry's concentration remained centered on the com-console. And as he'd probably seen Luke set off for the outer edges of the enclosure before moving in, knowing Jak was alone, he might be a little less vigilant about checking behind him.

At that moment Velerrin moved, rapidly and purposefully. Luke reached him before he could take another step, grabbing hold of Velerrin's arm and twisting it backwards and upwards. He pressed hard on Velerrin's wrist to weaken his grip on the blaster. The laser tore a hole in the ceiling, scattering them both with dust. As Velerrin lost his hold on it, the blaster fell to the floor and slid out of reach. Velerrin lunged backwards, digging an elbow into Luke's ribs, then spun round and made to follow the action with his fist. Luke caught Velerrin's wrist before the blow could connect, and hooked a foot around Velerrin's leg, sending them both sprawling to the floor, the split second's thought in Luke's mind that he really could've done without this.

And Velerrin wasn't prepared to go down easily. Luke remembered that he'd been one of Tarkin's Outer Rim thugs, whose aim had been to terrorize populations that'd dared to consider running their own worlds. Even if it'd been years back, Velerrin still knew how to fight, and he knew just where Luke was hurting most. It was time to end it, so Luke loosened his grip, letting Velerrin slam him down onto his back. It gave Luke the chance to bring a knee up, thrusting it viciously into the soft area beneath Velerrin's ribs. Winded, Velerrin doubled up in pain, and Luke shoved him backwards and rolled free. Leaping to his feet he threw a breathless glance at Jak, who stood in the doorway of the room. Jak had recovered Velerrin's blaster, and now he pointed it steadily at the former Captain.

"Move back against the side wall," Luke demanded. Velerrin complied, his expression still a grimace of agony, but there was hard, blazing anger in his eyes.

"You're going to regret not killing me Skywalker," Velerrin said in a low, tight voice. "Because I'll never rest until I hear you beg for death."

"Then you're going to have a lot of sleepless nights ahead of you," Luke said. He moved backwards, keeping his eyes on Velerrin, and leaned back against the opposite wall. If it'd hurt to breathe before, Luke now thought it was a pity he had to do it at all. It felt like someone had stuck a vibro-axe between his ribs and was twisting it with each indrawn breath. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees trying to ease the pressure. It didn't help that there seemed to be no air _to_ breathe. Jak glanced at him worriedly, but kept his attention fixed on Velerrin.

"Did you get Admiral Sallis?" Luke asked, after a few moments.

Jak nodded. "She's sent two ships that were already patrolling the other side of the quadrant. They'll be here any time now. I tried to find out about the battle up there, but the Admiral doesn't know anything. She's going to contact Judder Page directly. It's all gone quiet though. D'you think it's over?"

Luke half turned and peered out through the shutters. "I don't know. A few moments ago I thought I heard something coming down, but there's no sign of anything out there. You've spoken to Doctor Vilafii too? I heard her voice."

Jak smiled. "Yeah. You know, Han's co-pilot turned up at the Medcenter – very angry and highly strung. She couldn't understand a word he said so they had to find a translator. He took Han's ship."

"Chewie turned up there? How the heck did he know where to come?"

"Something to do with Wes Janson. He walked all the way to a marsh farm on the edge of the swamps and talked the farmer into giving him a lift into the nearest town. Then he borrowed a transport to get to the border of the Taramine quadrant. There's a big communications place there, and he got hold of the Medcenter."

"Right..." Luke rubbed a hand across his face. "But Chewie wasn't anywhere near Jarodine. And those X-wings were Rogue Squadron's. If anyone else shows up, we might as well relocate the entire Alliance to here."

Jak shrugged. "The fighters came from Maronia and they're friends of Wedge and Wes. Maybe Wes contacted them too?"

"It wouldn't have given them enough time to get here. They could've come with Chewie I guess."

"Linu says he wasn't very happy about everything when he arrived. I think Han's gonna be in trouble."

Luke grinned. "Well, that's just normal. But however they all got here, I'm just glad they did. And we'll get to find out soon enough." He stopped, listening. "What's that beeping noise?"

"Oh hells – Linu. When Velerrin turned up I just left her. She's probably going frantic wondering what's going on."

"I'll go and tell her," Luke said. "I wanna try getting hold of Chewie – find out where the _Falcon_ 's gone. Are you okay to watch him?" he added, gesturing at Velerrin. "If he moves a muscle, stun him."

Jak nodded. "Don't worry."

Luke pushed away from the wall, giving a slight grimace as he straightened up. He moved first to the open door of the chalet, studied the area outside for a few moments, then closed the door, securing it carefully. If anyone else tried to get inside, they'd have to blast their way in.

In the back room he hit the recall key to alert Vilafii. In seconds, the doctor was back at the screen, her face tense with worry.

"Luke!" she cried, exasperation failing to hide the relief in her expression, "What is it with you? Do you just spend your whole life walking into trouble?"

Luke smiled. "Not deliberately."

"What happened? Where did Jak go? Every communication I have with him gets cut off!"

"We had a surprise visitor. Jak's looking after him."

"Oh... I suppose it's too much to expect that you've avoided more life-threatening injuries?"

"Well, I wouldn't say they were life-threatening..."

The doctor sighed. "I'm going to be busy aren't I?"

"Probably – but not as busy as the military base will be."

"I thought Commander Page would've brought you in long before those Imperial ships got there. I don't understand what's going on."

"You're not the only one – but Judd didn't get here 'cause he went to the wrong place."

"But... how? Elina gave him the co-ordinates."

Luke stumbled over his reply, for some reason having expected that Jak would've told her about Elina. But there wouldn't have been a chance for that... "Listen. I... A lot of things have happened – things just got out of control here. It'll take a bit of explaining, but it's gonna have to wait. I need to get hold of the Wookiee who took Han's ship. Find out where everyone's gone."

"Good luck. He was very agitated. Said Han should've told him what was going on."

Luke ended the transmission and checked on Jak and Velerrin. Velerrin was still sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, but Luke could sense he was as alert as ever. There was a tension about him that indicated close concentration. He had no doubt that Velerrin knew the exact position of Jak's blaster, and just how many steps it would take to reach him. Jak was leaning against the opposite wall where Luke had stood before, his gaze flickering briefly across to acknowledge Luke before returning to Velerrin. Outwardly, Jak looked calm, but Luke knew that inside he would be as tense as Velerrin.

"How long is gonna take before someone turns up to help out?" Luke muttered, as much to himself as to Jak. It felt like he'd spent every other conscious moment with half an eye on the skies, looking for back-up that never arrived.

"I didn't tell her," Jak said. "There wasn't time."

Luke looked at him, knowing what Jak referred to. "I know."

"When I see her... It'll be better that way."

"Yeah." Luke turned back towards the communications room. There was no easy way to let someone know they'd been deceived, but Jak was right – it was better to tell her face to face.

The moment Luke put a foot through the doorway Velerrin moved, his hand reaching out towards his boot. Luke spun round, his lightsaber already ignited. There was a flash of something metallic in the air and a sharp crackle as the beam of the saber connected with it, sending it flying to the far corner of the room. It had happened in an instant, and the clatter of falling metal combined with the sound of Jak's blaster. The laser bolt hit Velerrin in the abdomen, the force of it throwing him back against the wall with a harsh gasp.

Jak stood perfectly still for a long moment, then held out his blaster, examining it with an expression of disbelief. He looked again at Velerrin. He was slumped against the wall, his eyes narrowed and his breathing shallow and labored. One hand covered the dark, smoldering wound on his abdomen.

"I didn't realize... I didn't mean to..." Jak turned to stare at Luke, his face white with shock.

"No, I know," Luke said, taking the blaster out of Jak's hands. He switched it over to stun, and laid it on the floor, then walked across to Velerrin. As Luke approached him, Velerrin's eyes opened wider, and he struggled to speak.

"Looks like you win..."

"Nobody wins," Luke said. "This was never a game to me."

Velerrin gave what looked like a brief nod of acknowledgement, and closed his eyes.

"He's going to die isn't he?" Jak asked. "We were supposed to take him alive. All the times you could've killed him..."

"I felt like killing him a hundred times and more," Luke said. "And he'd have killed you without a second's thought." Gingerly, he picked up the object Velerrin had taken from his boot. A steel twistblade, its honed and jagged points catching the sun that came through the window, and sending patterns of refracted light across the walls. It worked by embedding itself deeply in whatever it made contact with, the action causing folded twin blades to flick open with a spring-loaded force. As throwing weapons went, it was one of the nastiest.

Luke held it out to show Jak. "This was for you. And don't forget he'd arranged for Elina Breya to kill you, and she nearly succeeded."

Luke pushed the blades back into position and locked the safety catch in place before placing the twistblade down on a bench at the far side of the room. He looked at Jak carefully, guessing this was the first time Jak had killed anyone. He would've witnessed enough death and suffering over the years, but none caused by his own hands. As Jak had demonstrated so well already, he was a healer, and even killing somebody he hated as intensely as Velerrin was going to take time to accept. Luke knew enough about the problems of coming to terms with killing – when the reality of it hit home, you realized there was no way to take back what you'd done, and even acknowledging the necessity of it didn't alleviate all the feelings of guilt.

"Listen," Luke said, "you've spent over half your life in Imperial prisons and a lot of that was because of Velerrin. He's responsible for arresting your parents, and killing people you cared about. There'd be others too – he wouldn't have stopped there. How long is the list of people close to you or Han? As well as that, he was selling a database to Moff Blaine with information on thousands who'd worked against the Empire. It'll have details on people that never even made it to the central Imperial archives. All of their lives would be at risk. You need to see it that way."

"Maybe I can see it that way, but we were supposed to take him alive," Jak argued. "The Alliance needs that database. And... I wanted to ask him why he's done what he's done."

"He wouldn't have answered you. Not in a way you could understand. Men like Velerrin have a twisted way of looking at things, and nothing you could've said to him would've changed that."

Jak nodded slowly. "I understand that. Will the Alliance hunt for the database?"

"I expect so," Luke replied. He noticed how Jak's gaze continually drifted over to the prone form of Velerrin, watching for the moment when the slight movement of his chest stopped altogether. "Why don't you get a breath of air," Luke suggested. "I'll sort things out here."

After Jak had moved outside, Luke stood without moving, staring at Velerrin's body. It was difficult to work out how he felt because too many conflicting emotions had left him drained. He wanted to go away somewhere, sit down and think about it all, but the circumstances made that impossible.

It was also clear to Luke that he'd reached a stage where he wondered how much more he could do. The fight with Velerrin had pushed him back into a stage of exhaustion that he hoped had passed. That, and the psychological upheaval of the past few hours, had taken his last reserves of energy.

He threw a glance into the communications room, knowing he had to make the effort of walking in there and trying to contact the Falcon. He'd do it, of course, because however bad things got, he knew he could always push himself a little bit further. First, he closed his eyes, envisaging the enclosure and locating Jak's presence. All the signs of danger in the Force had gone, and he knew Jak was safe out there. His mind touched on all the prone victims of the battle, still locked inside their enforced sleep. But beneath the surface of unconsciousness, there were signs of imminent stirring. They didn't have very long left.

The strain of channeling his mind so precisely was greater than normal in the state he was in, and Luke opened his eyes. Yet something stopped him from shutting off the visualization. Movement at the top of the cliff. Staying where he was, Luke cast his mind further. Smiled to himself, and abandoned the idea of making it to the console.

***

The first thing Han saw was Jak, sitting on the lowest step of the entrance to the chalet. The relief almost made him forget his task, but he held his feelings back and continued his reconnaissance of the area. It was quiet everywhere, and after the noise and chaos of the battle, the stillness seemed out of place.

There was nothing else to see. No movement from any of the bodies that lay across the enclosure, but they needed to work quickly – before the effects of the weapons wore off. He tapped in a signal on his comlink. Spoke quietly into it. "You can move in now."

He turned round, looking back up the cliff. The whine of repulsors came first, then Han saw the pointed fins of several speeder bikes appear above the vegetation. Admiral Sallis had organized their back-up, and Han's job was pretty much over. He raised a hand, a signal that all was clear, and began to walk over to Jak.

The noise of the repulsor engines made Jak look up sharply, but the lines of anxiety on his face eased into a faint smile as soon as he saw Han.

"Don't worry, they're on our side," Han said, noting how Jak's smile barely altered his features, and how it left his eyes still troubled. A small twist of apprehension stirred inside him.

"Didn't think anyone was ever coming back," Jak said.

"Thought I'd better check the place out a bit first. I got the shuttle to put me down past the cliffs 'n came in on foot." He studied Jak closely. "I saw you go down. Didn't know what'd happened."

"I'm okay."

Han stared at him for second. "You don't look okay. Where's Luke?"

Jak pointed behind him. "In there."

Han started to move past Jak, but Jak stood up quickly. Put a hand out to stop him.

"Wait! There's something you need to know."

"What?" The uneasiness lurking in the pit of his stomach had turned to a seething mass of alarm.

Jak hesitated, drew a deep breath. "There's been an accident–"

Han didn't wait to hear any more. He took the remainder of the steps two at a time, bursting through the door with a total lack of caution for what might be inside.

He saw Velerrin first, his body slumped back against the side wall, one leg at a curious angle. The taint of burned flesh hung in the still air, but his mind didn't make the obvious connection.

And then he saw Luke. He was sitting on the floor by the doorway to the back room, his arms wrapped around his drawn-up legs. His head was down, his forehead resting on his knees.

Han moved over quickly, squatted down beside him and touched a hand to the side of his face.

"Luke."

Luke looked up, a smile on his face, full of weariness and relief in equal measure.

"Sorry – I was gonna get up, come and find you. Just haven't got there yet."

"Jak told me... said there'd been an accident. I didn't know... I thought..." Han said, his words merging together in an incomprehensible muddle. He framed Luke's face between his hands. "I thought Velerrin must've–"

"Han – Velerrin's dead," Luke interrupted quietly.

Han gazed back at Luke, wondering how it was possible to feel both hot and cold simultaneously. There were too many things to say, but at the same time nothing at all to say. In the end, he just nodded.

Outside, the first troop transporter came down on the ruined plots, causing a sudden influx of overheated air into the chalet, and making the wooden building rattle all the way down to its foundations.

"Is it over then?" Luke asked.

"Yeah, it's over." Han wrapped a supportive arm around Luke. "Come on, I'm takin' you away from here."


	27. Chapter 27

Han wasn't finding the Taramine Medcenter any easier to navigate the second time around, despite the familiarity he should've had with the place. He studied a large holoboard, placed supposedly for the guidance of visitors, but it only added to his confusion. Resignedly, he headed off in what he hoped was the right direction.

He'd come straight from the military base after the inevitable debriefing. They'd delayed the meeting, acknowledging the need for those involved to catch up with some sleep, and for others to get the medical attention they required. Admiral Sallis had contacted Madine, and the General had dragged himself out of bed to join the discussion via Holonet. On Coruscant, it was the middle of the night. Han had taken a back seat, letting Judd endure Madine's irritation, but in the event, he turned out to be more laid-back about Velerrin's death than they'd expected. Han supposed that learning the truth about the Druso toxin went some way to alleviating Madine's anxiety. They were no closer to acquiring Tarkin's database, but then neither were the Imperials, and nor, they assumed, was Kerul Talyn.

In the confusion of the ground battle, the former interrogator had disappeared. The crashed remains of the smaller ship, which Blaine had fled to, had revealed only one other body besides Blaine. The pilot, who'd given Blaine such a quick exit from the enclosure, had clearly had orders to escape rather than join in the fun. It would've worked if the _Falcon_ and Rogue Squadron hadn't turned up to block his flightpath.

When he'd first seen the _Falcon_ arrive, Han hadn't had time to wonder how it'd got there, but deep down he wasn't that surprised. Chewbacca had an uncanny knack for digging Han out of tight spots, and an equal skill at spotting incidences where he thought Han might've dragged Luke into trouble, despite the fact that Luke was perfectly capable of finding it by himself. He'd proved it often enough.

It turned out that Chewie hadn't gone back to Coruscant after leaving Kashyyyk. He'd contacted the Rogues on Maronia, wondering if the party might still be going on. Hobbie had filled him in with the few facts he knew, and it was enough to send Chewie straight off to Jarodine, complete with various other Rogues who were grabbing their last few hours off.

Faced with an angry Wookiee, and another invasion of her medcenter by Alliance pilots, Dr Vilafii had recruited some help in scouring the spaceport to find where Han had left the _Falcon_. Elina Breya had disappeared, but a mysterious message from the outskirts of the Taramine Quadrant had led them back to Wes, and the exact location of Jak's retreat.

Doctor Vilafii's confusion over the strange business had grown as she'd finally been reunited with Jak, but with their brief explanations she'd moved beyond puzzlement into disbelief and, finally, into anger.

But now she was back doing what she knew best – running her medcenter and directing medical droids. Haric Evlar's injured team members were here, although Evlar himself had decamped, with the rest of his group, to an inn in the center of Taramine. They planned to return to Fiore together, and then to approach their long-standing political issues from a new, non-violent, angle.

Wes was also here, suffering from heat exhaustion and a bad case of blisters, but it'd been a continuous party in his room, with one or another of the Rogues calling in to inform Wes of his latest hero rating amongst the pilots.

The captured stormtroopers and Elina Breya had been taken to the Taramine base, where the Alliance would now decide what to do with them. Most of the Rogues and Chewie were over there still, thrashing out various tactics for the potential discovery of Velerrin's hidden database. At the moment, they had no idea where to start. Decoding Velerrin's communications console and associated equipment from the swamps might offer some clues, but somehow Han doubted it. If Velerrin had known one thing, it was how to cover his tracks.

The whereabouts of Kerul Talyn was another matter. Two teams had searched the area around Jak's enclosure, before tracking inwards towards the swamps. Velerrin's hide-out had been taken apart and its contents secured. But, despite the searchers' vigilance, Talyn had evaded them. It had been yet another thing to add to Jak's unease, but Han suspected it'd take him a much shorter time to accept that than it would for him to come to terms with everything else. His strength of mind wasn't in question, and on the surface, it seemed he'd coped incredibly well – but it was a matter of what lurked beneath. Han had a feeling that the key to Jak's ability to confront the things that still troubled him might well lie with Luke. But then, Luke had problems of his own...

Han glanced around in surprise. Without any huge effort on his part, he'd arrived at the corridor that housed Vilafii's own room. It was here that he'd arranged to show up, hoping that the medical droids had finished doing to Luke whatever it was they were doing. There was nobody around, so Han spent a few minutes clearing datacards from a chair, and sat down to wait. If he hadn't been so sure that he'd never find his way back again, he'd have opted for the caf bar instead. But it felt good to sit down in peace for once, without having to face a barrage of questions over the ridiculous puzzle that had finally been resolved.

Not that _everything_ had been sorted out. With Velerrin's death, some questions might never be answered. He had the feeling Elina Breya wasn't the type to be forthcoming with information, and the Alliance was unlikely to be offering her any sort of deal. The military didn't take kindly to ex-Imperials who tried to mess with its heroes. And Velerrin wouldn't have disclosed the location of the database to her – his mistrust of everyone had been too strong for that.

Shortly after arriving back in Taramine, Wedge had asked Han how he felt about Velerrin. Han hadn't been able to answer. He'd been too strung-out to think rationally, and he couldn't see past getting through the next few hours. What he'd needed to do most of all was sleep, but it'd felt like the last thing he could manage. On the flight back from the Peshtin swamps, Luke had closed his eyes and crashed out, finally overwhelmed with exhaustion. But every time Han had tried to do the same, some stray thought had caught him unawares, and he'd ended up wide awake and restless.

Now he'd had a chance to rest, he still wasn't really any clearer over how he felt about it all. He had no sense of satisfaction over Velerrin's death. It had been too abrupt, and too unexpected. Han had wanted to take Velerrin alive, probably for much the same reasons Jak had, and they didn't have much to do with helping the Alliance. It went back to the unanswered questions again. All he could do now was to speculate why Velerrin had targeted, alongside those more directly involved, others such as Teshk Dirvinian and Ferim Saguno.

There was only one explanation that made any sense, even though there was no sense in any of it. When Talyn had contacted Velerrin a year ago, Velerrin had seen his chance to take his revenge on Talyn, setting him up for a fall that he'd planned so carefully. Perhaps Velerrin had set out to prove to himself, once and for all, the extent to which Talyn had lied to him. Han could only imagine the story Talyn had invented, but maybe it sent Velerrin to seek out those who might just know more than they'd appeared to know. If Han's enlistment in the Academy had been ordered from some higher-up source, then Teshk Dirvinian would probably know about it. The same was true with Ferim Saguno. If there'd been an implication that the Corellian captain had been paid by the Imperials to remove Han safely from Ghandine, then given the right form of persuasion Saguno might just have confessed to it. But there'd never been anything to know. No conspiracies, and no secret Imperial links in Han's past. If Velerrin had finally realized that, it'd been one more thing to hold against Talyn.

It was about as ridiculous as it got, and if Velerrin had still been alive, Han would probably never settle until he knew the whole truth. Which was one reason why things may have turned out for the best. But also, with so much to hold over Velerrin, it would've been too easy to fall into the trap of imagining his own form of retaliation. If Velerrin had lived, moldering away in some Alliance prison somewhere, the temptation to pay him back one day might have surfaced at any time. Han wasn't prepared to kid himself that he was above that, even now. He'd more-or-less proved that with his dangerous, barely-in-control feelings about Feltran.

Some time last year, Governor Feltran had been secreted away in the middle of the night, and nobody had told Han where he'd been taken to. And Han had never asked because he didn't trust himself enough to know the answer. It was better that way, and maybe one day he'd be able to stop thinking about Feltran and just get on with his life.

Wearily, Han put his feet up on the small table opposite him, and rested his head back against the wall. When Han had spoken to Wedge here in the Medcenter, Wedge had pointed out the need to talk, both for Han's sake and for Luke's. Han was determined to get Luke to slow down for a bit, just to recover from the last few days, and maybe give them both a chance to do that essential talking. If they went straight back to Coruscant, circumstances and other people would inevitably intervene. Talandir would never go away, but they could deal with it better if Luke would open up about it. Han closed his eyes, remembering as clearly as though it was only yesterday, how he'd found out that Luke had been captured by the ex-Imperial interrogator, Governor Feltran...

***

It had been a day much like those before it. Another boring meeting in Mon Mothma's offices – this time to finalize the agenda for the next assembly of reinstated senators. Han had gone along at Leia's request, although politics bored him witless. It'd crossed his mind that she might be about to suggest something controversial, which might not have the immediate support of the military. If they were against something, it was a fairly safe bet that he'd be in favor and on her side, just for the sheer hell of it. And, official standing or not, he still had some influence.

Luke had gone to the Festival of Regeneration on Chaal, Chewie was busy with some routine maintenance that'd made him grumpy and short-tempered and Wedge and the guys were out on a training run, leaving Han with no excuse to back out. But whatever Leia's reasons for wanting him there, Han never found out. They'd barely started the proceedings, and weren't even past the first mug of ubiquitous caf, when everything took an unexpected, shocking, turn.

Leia had prepared her schedule meticulously, but half-way through reading her list of proposals, she'd stopped suddenly, a frown of concentration on her face. Her datapad had fallen from her hands, overturning her mug and spilling its contents across the table. She'd turned pale, struggling to get out of her chair. Both Han and Mon Mothma had moved simultaneously, Mon Mothma calling out anxiously.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?"

They'd reached her at about the same time, and Han had noticed how she was trembling. He'd put out his hand to help her up, but she'd seemed oblivious to him, moving up of her own accord and stumbling backwards blindly. Then she'd closed her eyes, breathing out a single drawn out word.

"No."

And then she'd screamed.

Shaken, Han had yelled out across the room, "Get a medical droid!", but before anybody had been able to move, Leia had spoken again.

"Don't. It won't do any good." Her flat, emotionless tone had been as disturbing as the scream which had preceded it. With Han supporting her, she'd lowered herself back into her chair, arms wrapped around her body. She'd been shivering from shock.

"But you're hurting," Han had argued. "A droid's gotta check it out."

Leia had shaken her head. "It's gone. He's shut me out."

Han had stared at her, horrible possibilities forming in his mind. "What're you talking about?"

"They've taken him, Han."

"Who? D'you mean Luke? Who's taken him? The Chaal? Taken him where?" His voice had been too harsh, wound up with anxiety.

"I don't know."

Madine had cut in abruptly. "Can you communicate with him?"

Leia had shaken her head. "I... I'm not good enough to do that. It's too difficult... too far. But it wouldn't work anyway. He's closed the link."

"Why?" Han had asked, although he already knew the answer.

And Leia had turned to him, her expression bleak and her eyes full of fear. "To protect me."

 

It was a well-known fact that twins could be uncannily close. Luke and Leia had discovered this in themselves right from the start, even though they'd not understood why back in those first days of knowing each other. Han had heard tales of twins who felt each other's pain even though miles apart. Adding their link in the Force to their bond of twinship had created an intimacy that required careful handling to prevent it from becoming intrusive. Luke had taught Leia how to control this enhanced perception, to recognize the subtle nudges that could allow a mutual opening up of communication. Whatever disturbance Leia had felt, it had caused her to panic into forcing that link with Luke open. Moments later, he'd slammed it shut. But those seconds had been enough for Leia to know what was happening.

The next few hours had passed by rapidly, and Han could now remember only certain images from that time. He recalled Leia at her desk, talking on the Holonet to the Chaalui Senator. Her voice was calm, but she'd spent the whole conversation crying. Han wasn't sure she'd even realized. And he remembered Admiral Ackbar staring for a long time at a projection of the Chaalui system, as if hoping for a clue from the gently revolving starscape. Then there'd been Chewie coming to find him, his fur bristling with a barely restrained rage, letting him know the _Falcon_ was ready to go. And himself holding Leia, telling her, futilely, not to worry.

It'd taken them seven days to find Luke. Seven whole days that felt like a year, and all the time never knowing if time had already run out.

Han owed much of his success to the inventiveness of one of the Chaal younglings. Taken to a hidden location on Chaalui, the hostages had been told that their lives depended on the co-operation of their Jedi friend. Although a matter of great amusement to their captors, they'd underestimated the link the Chaal felt with the Jedi. In an attempt to help, one of the hostages had dropped a braided wrist tie outside the entrance to the place of their imprisonment.

The ties were special objects on Chaalui, but their significance had been overlooked by the Imperials. They were presented to offspring shortly after birth and were worn for the first ten years of life. The design and colors of the ties were unique to individual tribes, and each year a new thread was added. The discovery of the valuable braid was taken seriously, and even though it took a few days to return it to its rightful tribe, the finder's persistence paid off and set in motion a chain of events that led all the way to Talandir.

A couple of hours after discovering the implications of the returned braid, Han had arrived with a specially assembled team at the underground building housing the hostages. The captors they'd found there were young, their tough demeanors disappearing rapidly when divested of their stormtrooper armor and left to face Han's fury. After they'd revealed the location of Feltran's subterranean prison, Han had gone to Talandir, relying on the cooperation of the captured troopers he'd left behind. If Feltran had checked in on them and realized the game was up, everything would've been for nothing.

Talandir was a neutral world, nondescript enough not to attract galactic attention. It had a sector full of disused tunnels from a now defunct mine industry. Feltran had set himself up deep in the heart of these passages, and reaching him undetected should have been near impossible. However, the interrogator's arrogance and belief in his own infallibility contributed to his downfall. Han and Chewie, together with the Rogues and two squads of commandos, had made their way unhindered through the tunnels, bursting in on the nightmarish world where Feltran held sway, with no real plan other than a grim determination to find Luke.

After the roughly-hewn rock walls and crumbling caverns they'd passed through, the hidden bunker had been shocking in its contrasts. All gleaming clinical steel, hard surfaces and sterile, filtered air. Whilst one squad had taken responsibility for rounding up the imperials, the others had begun the hunt through the maze of cells, their faces turning grimmer with each door they breached. There'd been prisoner after prisoner with deadened eyes, and the brutal evidence of atrocity had made its presence felt from every inch of the place. They hadn't gone equipped to deal with things on such a scale, and had been forced to enlist the help of the local villagers in getting the prisoners out. Walking back through the tunnels hadn't been an option for most of them.

It'd taken them longer to find Luke, placed as he was behind additional levels of security. It hadn't been Han who'd got there first, but several of the Rogues. When Han had arrived on the scene, three of the pilots had moved instinctively as one to block his way, wanting to spare him additional distress. Wordlessly, he'd pushed through them. Somebody had wrapped a medpac survival blanket around Luke. He'd lain, curled up, whilst Wedge had worked on releasing the shackles round his wrists and ankles. Han had knelt down next to him, and reached out to touch his cheek.

Despite everything, Luke had smiled at him. A shadow of a smile, but there nevertheless. Han had needed to bend close to hear Luke's words. "Knew you'd turn up."

"You know me, never miss a party," Han had said, trying, and failing, to disguise the break in his voice.

"The Chaal?"

"All safe."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It was down to you. You kept 'em that way."

Han had moved aside to let his team take over – they'd had more experience of moving people safely than Han had.

He'd thanked the captain, then turned back to face the room again.

"Come on Han," Wedge had said. "Time to go."

"Give me a moment," Han had requested.

Wedge had nodded, and beckoned to the rest of the Rogues. They'd followed him out, the harsh light doing nothing to hide the consternation in their eyes. Han had known how they felt. Luke was one of their own.

Han had stood there for a few seconds longer, studying the cell and committing it to memory. When Luke had nightmares, Han had wanted to understand a tiny part of them.

 

Back on the surface, the sunlight had seemed too bright and inappropriate after the horrors below. Han had looked around, squinting against the glare. The medical crew of the transport was checking over the injured members of Han's team. No-one from their squads had been killed. Apart from Han's own relief at that, he'd known it'd be crucially important to Luke later on. The commando teams had rounded their prisoners up, and called for additional transport to get them securely back to Coruscant. But standing apart from his men, and under separate guard, had been Feltran.

Han had walked slowly over to him, watching the recognition filter into Feltran's face. He'd stared at him impassively for a moment, determined not to give the ex-Imperial the satisfaction of seeing him disturbed.

There'd been no trace of defeat or regret in Feltran's expression. He'd assessed Han coolly, before allowing himself the faintest expression of something like satisfaction. And then he'd leaned towards Han with a mocking smile.

"He's the toughest I've ever known. It taxed even my ingenuity to get results. But the effort was worth it."

Sudden, blind fury had driven Han's fist into Feltran's jaw, the connection sending a sharp but satisfying jolt of pain up through his arm. He'd been allowed a few seconds more before the squaddies had pulled him away. The retaliation had been short, and sweet at the time. Afterwards, staring at his split knuckles, he'd just felt numb.

He'd walked over to Chewbacca, who'd made no comment on what Han had just done. There'd been nothing to say.

"Can you take the _Falcon_ back? I wanna go with Luke."

Chewbacca had growled his assent, and told him that the transport planned to rendezvous with the medical frigate instead of making the journey straight back home. He added that he'd collect Han from the frigate later.

Han had clapped his hand against Chewie's arm in thanks. He'd started to make his way to the transport ship, but had turned back to Chewie.

"Don't let Leia come back with you. It's better she doesn't see."

The flight to the rendezvous point had seemed interminable, stretching Han's patience almost beyond breaking point. Luke had been slipping slowly towards unconsciousness, and Han had felt totally powerless. The on-board medical officer had warned Han that touching Luke should be avoided, at least until the full extent of his injuries could be determined. But at some point, he'd taken a very careful hold of Luke's left hand, with a view to offering whatever support he could. Luke had curled his fingers round Han's thumb in recognition of the gesture, and opened eyes that didn't quite focus.

He'd struggled to speak again, and Han had moved as close as he could.

"Thanks."

"Hey – no trouble at all," Han had said, with a passable attempt at a grin.

Luke had closed his eyes again. "You okay?" he'd asked.

In the circumstances it had been the most illogical question ever, but so very typical of Luke that it nearly shattered Han's very tenuous hold on himself.

"Yeah," he'd managed.

He hadn't said any more, not wanting to put Luke to the effort of replying. Instead, he'd just held on to Luke's hand, until he felt the grip on his thumb slowly loosen as Luke finally lost his struggle to remain conscious.

Han had stared at him for a long while, battling an incongruous loneliness. After all, Luke had been far better off _not_ being aware any more, but despite everything, he'd still exuded an aura of strength that had transferred itself to Han. Without him Han had felt the first stirrings of fear, that things had gone too far. And at the back of his mind the half-formed thought that this time, Luke might not wake up again.

He'd looked down at Luke's hand, with its bruised knuckles and bloodied fingernails, and had felt like hitting something. Instead, he'd turned the hand gently over to examine the palm. Four crescent-shaped wounds, crusted with dried blood, had marked it, where Luke had clenched his fist too hard, digging his nails deep into his own flesh. Of all the dreadful things about that time, that image came back most frequently to haunt Han.

He'd laid Luke's hand back down, and paced the small room in attempt to calm his anger. Then he'd seen one of Luke's feet. The enfolding blanket had slipped, just an inch or two. Han had closed his eyes, the image burned into his memory. Just one small part of the whole of him, but a too-vivid picture of all that Luke had endured. The Rogues had tried to shield him from this, but for Luke there'd been no chance to hide from anything.

The anguish rid him of the rage that had kept him stalking the floor, and he'd knelt back down beside Luke. There didn't seem to be anywhere safe to touch but he'd stroked Luke's hair lightly, more for his own reassurance because he'd known Luke could no longer sense his presence. He'd needed to feel that Luke was still there, warm and alive, and he'd leaned in to catch the faint exhalation of a breath. Gone further, and placed his lips on Luke's, and found he didn't want to stop.

 

After they'd transferred Luke to the medical frigate, Han had sat silently, staring at the hazy image of his friend in the bacta tank. All around him, medical droids had worked, making adjustments to the bacta levels, monitoring life-readings, and politely avoiding any discussion of Luke's injuries in front of Han.

When Chewbacca returned he'd sought Han out, and had laid a heavy, comforting paw on Han's shoulders. Rasped out that it hadn't been Han's fault.

"Come on Chewie – he should never have gone there alone. I should've gone with him."

Chewie had argued with him, reminding him of how Luke always made his own mind up. And if Han had gone, he'd have been taken too, and the chances of Han surviving what they'd done to Luke were far from good.

Han hadn't replied. Instead he'd got up and walked over to the tank. Leaned against it, pressing his hands against the screen. Through the liquid, Luke had looked too insubstantial to have lived through the last few days. But his captors, like so many others, had underestimated Luke's strength. Han had wondered just what reserves Luke had drawn on to maintain his resolve, and how much more he was still going to need.

"I don't wanna lose him." The words had slipped out before Han could stop them, and he'd regretted them instantly. They'd sounded too shallow. As though _he'd_ been the main concern. Him and his own feelings.

But Chewbacca had understood, his low, throaty rumble reassuring Han that losing Luke just wasn't going to happen. He'd insisted that Han get some rest. Told him he couldn't do any more in any case.

Han had refused, so Chewie had issued an ultimatum. Han could have another fifteen minutes, after which he was to meet Chewie in the upper deck bar.

Han had nodded his silent agreement. After Chewbacca had left, he'd leaned his forehead against the tank for a moment, wondering what he was doing.

A medical droid had joined him there, its acute visual observations as vital as the flashing console linked to the tank. Han had turned to it. "Is he going to live?"

The droid had replied in its soft, calm tones. "He has great determination General Solo. Most humans would not still be alive."

"That's not an answer and you know it."

The droid had indicated the monitoring console. "The readings are not stable enough to say for sure sir."

"But he spoke to me," Han had argued.

"With trauma such as this, injuries can worsen over a period of time, and as yet, we don't know the full extent of them."

"When _will_ you know?"

The droid had consulted the console again, then promised Han an update as soon as it had made a proper assessment.

The droid had asked Han to leave, and as the door slid to a close behind him he'd heard the sound of the door locks clicking into place.

He hadn't gone to the upper deck bar, but had headed down instead to below the cargo holds. The rest quarters of the cargo deckhands had been quiet and dark, and there'd been nobody there to bother him. He'd sat in the corner of one of the rooms, staring at nothing. Chewbacca had found him eventually. Silently, he'd handed Han a hot mug of caf that he'd carried carefully through the various levels as he'd searched for his friend. Then Chewie had sat down beside him, and together they'd waited for news...

***

Han was roused from his grim memories by the sound of arguing from the corridor outside. It wasn't anything serious, just Luke being Luke. He grinned to himself and stood up, knowing what it was likely to be about.

"Han," Linu Vilafii said with relief, as the door opened. "Surely you can talk some sense into him?"

Han threw a glance at Luke. "Better people than me have tried and failed," he pointed out.

"But if he'd just spend _one_ whole night in a tank, he'd be so much better for it."

"No tanks," Luke insisted. "Honestly, I've had enough of them. And I'm really not that bad."

"Well, you're not a doctor, so I'd say I was in a better position to judge that," Vilafii said, her tone sharp. "And I can't exactly trust you to rest can I?"

"If I promise to take it easy for a couple of days, will that help?"

Vilafii sighed with frustration, and Han intervened. "Look – I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Just leave it to me."

Vilafii looked even less convinced, and Luke stifled a smile at Han's look of offense.

"Listens to you does he?"

"Oh yeah, all the time," Han said emphatically.

"Right – I'm holding you responsible then, because I don't want to see him back in here with anything else that needs sorting out."

"Hey, you can count on me."

Vilafii turned back to Luke. "Come back in a day or so, and I'll check you over again." She looked at the ground for a moment, then back up at them both. "And I'd like to talk to you about Marika. Shil needs to know the truth – I wondered if you'd want to be involved in that?"

Han nodded. "We'll be back. There are things we need to deal with."


	28. Chapter 28

Admiral Sallis had arranged for them to stay in the military base. Declining wasn't an option, and nor was refusing the assistance of the armed guards who escorted them back there. It felt a bit like being under arrest, and although the soldiers were only there to ensure their safety, it was an uncomfortable reminder that protection came with its own set of issues. It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't suspect that once back on Coruscant, people would be lining up behind Madine to tell them how to look after themselves from now on.

It was a typical high-security room, and Han looked around it dubiously. The door was double-layered durasteel, and even behind the blast-proof shutters the windows were partly obscured behind thick steel bars. Voicing the obvious thought that it might make Luke feel right at home didn't seem the way to go, but at least it did have a locking mechanism on _their_ side of the door.

Han threw down the canvas holdall of essentials he'd hastily grabbed from the _Falcon_ and opened a shutter to let in some real air. They were several storeys up and a sheer drop looked down onto a duracrete compound ringed with steel razor wire. He wiped the grimace from his face before turning back to Luke. "I guess it could've been worse."

"How?"

"They might've put us in the barracks."

"I suppose so," Luke agreed. He sat down on the edge of one of the beds. "Or we might've had even narrower beds."

Han looked at him askance. "Yeah, just as well you've got this to stretch out on, seein' as it's where you'll be spending most of your time." He moved over and swung Luke's legs onto the bed.

"Sounds like a threat."

"Remember I promised the doctor I'd make sure you get some rest." Han proceeded to pull Luke's boots off for him, deliberately avoiding catching Luke's amused glance. He sat down on the end of the bed, resting a hand on one of Luke's ankles. "'Sides, I'm sure it's all you wanna do right now."

Luke didn't answer, and Han noticed how his eyes traveled to the bars at the window, and how a slight darkness seemed to descend across his face, just for a moment. Han tightened his grip on Luke's ankle.

"They just wanna keep us safe. I'd rather not be here either."

"It's just..." Luke didn't finish, giving a slight shrug before he changed the subject. "I'm sorry. About Velerrin."

"I'm not," Han muttered.

"It's not the same thing," Luke said.

Han looked at him, puzzled. "What's not the same?"

"Wanting some kind of revenge for the things Velerrin did. It wouldn't turn you into someone like him, no matter how much you hated him."

Han frowned. "I think Velerrin would've seen it like that though. If I'd ever laid a finger on him, he'd have taken it as proof that I was just the same as him."

"It doesn't matter what he'd have thought. It matters that you see the difference. And that Jak doesn't beat himself up over the part of himself that's gonna be happy Velerrin's dead."

Han nodded and rubbed his hand up and down Luke's ankle. "Five minutes alone with Velerrin and I dunno what I'd have done, but I'm not gonna lie and say I wouldn't have touched him. So I keep tellin' myself it's better this way. But there are things we're never gonna know now. It still seems unbelievable – him hating me for all those years."

"You showed up at all the wrong times and he focused on you because you were there. Even if he hadn't really believed all the things Talyn told him, he'd have talked himself into it." Luke threw him a smile. "And you _did_ let the Wookiees out."

"Yeah. I should've gone with 'em. Not that it would've made any difference. Another thing I don't get is why Talyn let Velerrin deal with Bereljia by himself. I'll bet he's never trusted anyone in his whole life – why the hell would he trust Velerrin? He was even on Fiore at the same time."

Luke shook his head. "I don't know. If we ever find him, we can ask him. I'm sure he's been asking himself the same thing. But we should talk to Haric Evlar again – we still don't know the full story of how he got involved."

"We'll have to wait till his sister's finished yelling at him. D'you think Talyn will show up again?"

"I don't think he'll come after Jak. Or any of us. He wasn't in it for revenge. He just wants power, and Jak isn't the way to get it. He'll be more likely to head for Gamorr – try his chances there. Especially now Blaine's gone."

"Jak's always gonna be looking over his shoulder though, isn't he?"

Luke sighed. "I know. But the worst thing is Elina Breya. Jak must've thought they had a real friendship, being at Peshtin together."

A sudden flash of memory took Han back to Cloud City. Himself, weak with exhaustion, nerve-endings raw from the torture Vader had inflicted on him, erupting with rage at what he'd seen as Lando's betrayal. His reactions had been intense, tied in as they were to feelings for Luke that he'd not understood back then. He'd known only a pure, burning anger against someone he'd considered a friend, and who'd appeared to use that relationship to help Vader set his trap. It wasn't the same, of course, and things had long been set right between him and Lando. But he knew how it felt to have a friendship blow up in your face.

"Then I guess we have to make sure he knows a lot of people _are_ on his side."

"I think he knows that already," Luke pointed out. "But he wants to talk, and we have to make time for that."

"We're not going back to Coruscant until we've sorted everything out, however long it takes."

"Madine won't like that."

Han grinned. "Even more reason to stay away."

Luke smiled back at him and struggled to sit upright. He gave up, and concentrated on trying to hook his foot around Han's waist.

"What're you doing?"

"If you're gonna make me stay on the bed the whole time, I might as well make the most of it."

Han grabbed hold of Luke's foot and returned it to its previous position. "That doesn't count as rest."

Luke ignored the remark, freeing his foot from Han's grip. "I seem to remember you promising something about making things up to me."

Han got off the bed and walked over to the window, removing himself from temptation. He leaned back against it, arms folded, watching Luke.

"Yeah, well the doctor's promise comes first."

"I've never known you take any notice of orders from doctors before."

"It's my newest resolution," Han said.

"Oh, right. There are others then?"

"Other what?"

"Resolutions. Or did you break them so long ago you can't remember them?"

"Hey – when I make a resolution, I stick to it," Han declared. "Anyway, Vilafii's right – you've gotta take it easy, so you can start now."

"I got some rest in the medcenter."

"In between medical droids plastering you with bacta and sticking needles in every square inch of skin you must've got all of five minutes. And I bet you still haven't eaten anything and that ain't like you. Maybe I should contact someone and get 'em to send something up?"

Luke suppressed a shudder. "No thanks. Anyway, I've got a much better idea. Just come back over here. Otherwise I'll have to come to you and I thought you wanted me to stay here."

Han shook his head, but, will of durasteel that he obviously had, moved back towards Luke.

"Threatening me, Skywalker?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Luke reached out and took hold of Han's arm. The strength in Luke's grip did what it always did to Han, and for a second he almost forgot his determination to force Luke to rest.

"What happened to all your legendary patience?"

"It's run out."

"You're sore everywhere," Han noted.

"Then find somewhere that isn't."

"You're only doing this to prove I can't keep a resolution."

"You reckon?"

"Yeah..." Han's speech faltered at the touch of Luke's fingertips on his wrist. "Dunno if this is a good idea..." It was just a token protest, so he could pretend that he really had tried, and Luke knew that as well as he did.

"Just come here," Luke murmured, pulling on Han's shirt to drag him closer.

"Ah, hells," Han muttered. He acknowledged silently that his need for Luke was a lot stronger than any self-discipline he might've thought he had. He didn't have time to dwell on that, because Luke had hauled him down, bringing their mouths together, and Han was totally lost again. He warned himself to be cautious, but Luke wasn't interested in that, igniting the instant their lips touched, communicating his hunger with an intense concentration that flooded Han's body with heat.

 _Too many injuries,_ Han thought, the taste of blood in his mouth a sharp reminder. He pulled away to inspect the damage, but brushing his lips against the cut on Luke's lip that refused to heal didn't have the soothing effect he'd aimed for. And Luke's soft groan just twisted Han's insides into knots and pushed aside any remaining hesitation. His doubts came from wanting Luke too much, and knowing that all his earlier fears for Luke were still coiled up inside him. He'd thought he was too wound up to trust himself, but the simple act of kissing Luke released some of that tension. It was all he'd wanted to do for the last few hours in any case.

But he couldn't get rid of his anger that easily. Carefully removing Luke's tunic, Han had to damp down a sharp flare of fury at the sight of the bruises, now a deep, livid purple. He trailed his fingers lightly across Luke's collarbone, wary of exerting too much pressure, and listened to Luke's quickening breaths and his own heart thrumming in his chest.

Han spent a long while kissing Luke, the whole time conscious of Luke's struggle to accept Han's insistence on taking his time. Because Luke was too wound up as well, and if Han had let him, he'd have pulled Han down hard on top of him, heedless of any of his injuries. Slowly, Han tracked a line of kisses down to Luke's navel, tracing with his fingertips the involuntary tremors that passed across Luke's skin. It occurred to Han that in the too few times they'd spent together like this, there'd been a kind of urgency between them, brought about by combinations of misunderstandings and outside events that had dominated everything. He wanted time away from everything, just to be with Luke. Somewhere free of all complications.

But even here, in this claustrophobic, cell-like room, Han was determined to show Luke just how much he meant to him. And even though Han realized Luke already knew how he felt, Han hadn't really had a chance to just _give_ to Luke before. And maybe Luke hadn't been ready to accept that before either. Now, as Han's touch drew small, quiet sounds from Luke, Han felt like he had some kind of answer. It fuelled his wish for greater knowledge of Luke, in much the same way that Luke had gone about discovering every part of Han on Ghandrellia.

There were things about Luke that Han had never had the time to notice before. Like the way Luke watched him as Han took off the rest of their clothes, the color of his eyes changing in a way that that made Han struggle with the buttons of his shirt. And the way Luke's fingers curled reflexively when Han made slow circles with the palm of his hand across Luke's midriff. And the way he bit down on his lip every time Han murmured low, throaty words to him.

With a hand on Luke's knee, Han stroked a path inwards with the fingers of his other hand. Luke's hard intake of breath, and the shudder of need that swept through him were enough to encourage Han, and turned his gentle caress into a demand for something more. Only the lightest touch that made his intention clear, and if Han hadn't caught Luke's eyes at that very second, he'd have missed the shadow that flitted behind them. Sudden knowledge was a cold blade slicing through his guts again, and he was back in Talandir, the place that never went away. He moved up, lifting a hand to touch Luke's cheek, Luke's eyes meeting his levelly.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Luke asked, although it was obvious he knew what he'd given away.

"Everything they did to you."

"I'm okay with it all, Han."

"No you're not. Nobody should have to deal with that alone."

"I haven't been alone. And you were with me, afterwards."

Han shook his head. "But I wasn't, was I? Not really. I would've been, if you'd let me."

"I meant – when I was in the tank."

"You knew about that? But... I thought..."

"It was... sort of subconscious. I just knew you were there, even though I didn't actually know it, if you get what I mean."

Han grinned at him, wanting to chase those memories from Luke's eyes. "I get the fact you're weird, which explains a lot."

"It meant a lot to me."

They looked at each other for a few moments in silence. Luke gave a slight shiver as though he was cold, so Han pulled the sheet across them both, even though it wasn't that kind of warmth Luke was looking for.

"I would've listened," Han said.

"I know."

"Why wouldn't you tell me anything? I waited, thinkin' if I gave you some space, you'd talk sooner or later. But you just shut me out. I missed you."

Luke gave a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't like how things were either. And I guess I missed myself too. My old self, that is. I wasn't sure where I was going anymore. And everything had got so complicated. We'd never even really talked about other things, like Cloud City. And there were security repercussions – we were having arguments about that before I went to Chaalui. It could've tipped things over the edge."

"You didn't shut me out over arguments about security."

Luke gazed back up at Han, his eyes studying Han's face intently. "You were so angry, and I knew you were finding it hard to accept. I didn't know how you'd react if I told you any more."

Han shook his head in disbelief. "Luke, you had to go through it, not me. I didn't _care_ about my own feelings. I was angry 'cause I hated what you'd been through."

"But you _were_ going through it in another way. I could see you had a problem with it. I thought we both needed more time."

"So to spare my feelings you just bottled it all up?" Han twisted further onto his side, propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Luke. "I _saw_ your injuries. I know what they do to people in those places. I _remember_ the place. Of course I had a problem with it – anyone in their right mind would've had a problem with it. But I still wanted to help."

Luke rolled over quickly to face Han, barely disguising a wince from the pain of sudden movement.

"Of course you helped. You got me out of there for one thing. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

Han took hold of Luke's shoulders and pushed him carefully down onto his back.

"What did I tell you about takin' it easy?" he chided. "And I'm not talkin' about that sorta help. Me going after you, or you goin' after me – it's just what we do."

"Yes," Luke said. "But I never really told you what it meant to me. That you came and found me."

"You _did_ tell me, and even if you hadn't, I'd have known anyway. Just as you'd know if it was the other way round."

Luke was quiet for a few seconds. "I didn't really know how to talk about it," he admitted eventually. "I thought... if I started, I might not be able to stop. It'd be something I couldn't control."

Han caught Luke's left hand, pressing the palm against the curve of his own cheek. "Ain't that the whole point of talking? You needed to offload this stuff, and I was there."

"I don't know. I felt like I had to... stay in control. It was something they'd tried to take away from me. It's difficult to let go of that afterwards."

"Okay – I understand that, and I understand you had to do what you did to protect yourself. But you talkin' about it's got nothing to do with losing control 'n nothing to do with them taking something from you. It's the opposite. It's you takin' charge of how you feel. You've gotta believe that."

"Maybe – but when you talk about offloading, that's almost like making someone else live through it."

"Me you mean? You're still worrying about me being upset?"

"Things are different now. But back then... I thought neither of us were ready."

"I'm gonna be honest – I couldn't get my head round it, and arguing about every trip you made seemed to help. Maybe 'cause it stopped me thinking too hard about what really happened." Han hesitated and gripped Luke's hand a little tighter. "I was scared you were gonna die. And I was so damn angry I couldn't think straight. I wanted to beat Feltran to a pulp, but it wouldn't have been enough. I dunno if time's made much difference to the way I feel. All I know is I'm here now, if you do wanna talk about it. And I don't want my feelings spared."

Luke didn't say anything for well over a minute, and Han stayed still, watching him. They'd spent so long avoiding this conversation that Han was unwilling to risk hoping for more. And he knew from experience that there was no point in trying to pressurize Luke into saying anything he didn't want to say. But as Luke looked up at him Han saw the decisiveness in his eyes, and knew that Luke had been thinking of a way to start, rather than looking for another reason to sidestep Han's concern. When he began to speak it was haltingly, but as Luke had already anticipated, once he started it seemed he just couldn't stop.

Luke told him everything. Not just about what they'd done to him, but about how he'd felt. The overwhelming feeling of isolation. Not knowing how much time had passed, and being unable to distinguish night from day. How they never really let him sleep, and how, if he passed out, they'd force him awake again. About the disorientation, and the separation from reality. And how it was never really over, because in his dreams he often found his way back there, waking himself up hearing echoes of screams.

And Han listened, his fingers entwined hard with Luke's, holding onto something that made sense, because nothing he was hearing had any place in a sane galaxy. He'd believed he'd imagined the worst, putting his own interpretations on the injuries he'd seen on Luke's body. He been so far from the truth of it all that he guessed Luke had been right. That he'd not been ready to face the facts. After all, he'd failed to read beyond the first paragraph of the medical droid's full report, white spots of anger blanking out the words until he'd shut down the screen, not trusting himself to read further.

"He'd laugh at me," Luke said. "Ask me why I wanted to make things so much worse for myself. He told me that if I'd only say the word, he'd end it for me straight away. That I knew I was going to die eventually, so why drag it out?"

Han didn't say anything, but kissed Luke along the line of his jaw, letting Luke speak uninterrupted for as long as he wanted to.

"Of course, what he wanted was to break me," Luke continued. "Wanted me to die knowing that he'd finally beaten me. It wouldn't have been good enough for him otherwise."

Luke broke off to give Han a wry grin. "But I can't do anything easily. I told him to go to hell. The more I provoked him, the longer he'd draw it out, wanting me to plead with him to stop, but I never could. He'd taunt me with it, tell me he knew I could take more."

Luke shivered again, and Han closed his eyes for just a moment, breathing through the hurt of it all. He was damn well going to stay calm.

"Once, they brought in another prisoner. I didn't understand what they were doing – I hadn't known there were others. I think we both felt the same thing, just for a moment – that we weren't alone in there. But then I realized what it was about. It was another one of Feltran's games. They strapped the man down in front of me. He was shaking so much it made things difficult for them. They said they wanted to test something. He started screaming right away."

Han clenched his jaw, feeling a twist of apprehension in his guts, knowing that he hadn't yet heard the worst of it.

"I couldn't stand it," Luke explained. "I kept shouting at them to stop. Feltran told me they were doing it to give me a break. That it was the other prisoner or me, and I should be grateful I'd been spared. Of course, Feltran knew what I'd say. It was what he'd planned all along."

"Oh, Luke," Han whispered, unable to stop the words.

Luke squeezed Han's hand in response. "Feltran just smiled at me, like he'd won some sort of victory, and they let the man loose. As they were taking him out, he turned in the doorway. Just stared at me like he couldn't understand."

Han spoke up then, not just because he couldn't stay quiet any longer, but because Luke's confusion over the way that situation had worked out sounded far too close to guilt. "If you put someone on the spot like that, what most people would've done is look after themselves. It's just the survival instinct and it's pretty difficult to get past it. You're not like most people, but that doesn't mean you gave Feltran what he wanted, 'cause either way he'd have meant you to think he'd won. If you'd let 'em carry on torturing the other guy, Feltran would've used that against you instead."

Han rubbed a hand across his eyes, struggling to deal with the imagery Luke's description had produced. "It would've been difficult for the other guy to get his head round what you did. If the roles were reversed, maybe he'd have let 'em torture you, and no-one could've blamed him for it. The whole thing's so goddamned sick, there's no good answer. Someone's always gonna come away with a fucked-up head."

Luke gave him a short nod of acknowledgement. "I found out that the other guy was rescued when you raided the place. I thought... maybe I should see him. But then, I didn't know if it was the right thing to do."

Han could understand that. Luke's instinct would've made him to want to see him. Just knowing he was alive wouldn't be enough – Luke needed some sort of closure. After all, neither of them had wanted the situation they'd found themselves in. But Luke's appearance could've triggered unnecessary self-reproach in the man, which wouldn't have helped anybody.

There was a pause before Luke started to speak again, and this time a touch of additional wariness had entered his voice. Han guessed they were reaching issues that lay at the heart of Luke's uneasiness.

"Sometimes I thought I'd retaliated. Torn the shackles from the wall, smashed the machines, choked anyone who came near me. I couldn't always tell what was real and what wasn't. Then they'd throw cold water in my face, and I'd realize it was just a dream. Or a hallucination."

Luke shifted in the bed, a frown between his eyes. "But what made it worse, was that I didn't know where it'd come from. Wasn't sure who I was anymore. Was it something inside? Did I really want to save myself at the expense of the Chaal prisoners? Was the real me the person who'd imagined doing all that, or the person who hadn't done it? I don't know if that makes any sense at all."

"Yeah, it makes sense, 'cause you have things to deal with that most people don't have to think about. But you're way too hard on yourself. It's instinctive, to wanna fight what they're doing. And they play on that, 'cause you can't do what you want. You can't defend yourself, and you can't escape. It's meant to twist your mind. It's what they do. Pick the things you're most vulnerable to and exploit 'em. Make you question what you believe in."

Luke reached out with his free hand and stroked Han's cheek. Han captured the hand, kissed it, rubbed his thumb against the palm. They'd done something to it in Talandir. Han remembered the circuitry, burned-out and blackened, the hand unusable. He'd wondered at the time if the damage had been a consequence of something they'd done to Luke, or if they'd discovered the psychological baggage that accompanied the hand and sought to take advantage of it.

"I _did_ start to wonder about my instincts," Luke acknowledged, "because they suddenly seemed to be the most important thing. If I wanted to do those violent things, was it just for survival, or was it for revenge? Hatred, or self-defense? The difference was everything – or it seemed like that at the time. I tried to remember all the things I'd been taught but it was impossible to think. They never left me alone for long enough."

Han brushed his lips against Luke's, kissed a line along his cheekbone. "You went through something no one should have to go through. They wanted you to think you'd lost your ideals, but they're too much a part of you to be destroyed like that. If you'd got hold of Feltran and torn him to pieces you'd still've had them."

He ran a hand slowly through Luke's hair, letting the ends curl round his fingers. "You look at yourself and you see all the things you think are wrong. But I look at you 'n I see how strong you are, and how you stand by what you believe in. But you're also human, and that means you're gonna show human emotions and there's nothing wrong with that. Don't get hung up on the fact you got angry and you wanted to fight back 'cause it's got nothing to do with anything Yoda taught you. It doesn't make you a bad person any more than me wanting to punch Velerrin's lights out would've made me a bad person. You've gotta remember what you did. How you got through it and never gave up. And y'know, most people would've fallen apart over this, including me."

"You're stronger than you make out."

"Maybe, but I know there's only so much you can deal with by yourself. All of this stuff – these fears you've got about yourself, and everything else – we're gonna sort it out together. Okay?"

Luke smiled. "Okay. But I have to carry on doing what I've always done. It's my way of fighting it. If I stopped now and shut myself away – then he's won anyway, hasn't he?"

Han nodded. "I've always understood that. I've just not been very good at accepting you gettin' hurt. And we seem to jump from one problem to the next."

"I guess it just goes with the job."

"I guess so," Han admitted.

"And you know something else?"

"What?"

"I'm still not interested in resting." Luke reached up to slide a hand round the back of Han's neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

Han could feel the pent-up agitation in Luke, alongside a craving for a physical intimacy powerful enough to equal that of his disclosures. But having secured Luke's freedom from yet more bacta-tank immersion, Han was determined not to relinquish it. If they discarded all caution, Luke would be back with Vilafii and in a tank before she could tell them 'I told you so.'

Carefully, Han extricated himself from Luke's grip, partly to keep his weight off Luke's body, and partly to calm things down to a level he could control again. It felt like something inside him was fighting to get out, and if he could've got up and smashed everything in the room to pieces he might have done it. Except that was going back to his own feelings again, and it would've done nothing to help Luke. Only make him believe that he'd been right to keep this from Han before.

But Luke knew how Han was feeling, of course, because it was there in his eyes as they raked Han's face. And the too-hard grip Han had on Luke's wrists would've given him away in any case. There was no way to undo the past, but there were ways to make someone forget, if only for a short while. So instead of releasing him, he held Luke's arms down against the mattress and kissed him again. He did it slowly, almost languidly, and then moved his lips across Luke's face and neck, intent on eroding the hard edges of memory that had wound Luke up so tightly. He kept Luke pinned there, his legs straddling Luke's body without touching, until Luke gave a long, drawn-out sigh like a slow release of tension.

"Han?" Luke murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Promise me something."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't hold back on me. No more barriers."

In answer, Han brushed his lips along Luke's shoulder, skimming over the worst of the bruising, but not staying away from it. Avoidance had been something he'd hidden behind – a protective shell of outrage that had stopped him discovering that the things that really mattered had to be faced.

And so Han began the process of learning about Luke all over again. His hands sought out scars, tracing their patterns with the light graze of fingertips, and following his touch with his lips. He acknowledged everything and missed nothing.

He discovered a great deal. Partly about himself, and how he'd found a way to deal with this. The anger was still there inside him, and probably always would be. He'd never eradicate the shock and the horror, nor the anxiety over Luke's safety. In confronting his darkest fears over what Luke had been through and finding them to be based on a reality that was even worse, he might have found it impossible to accept. But instead, it allowed for the process of recognition. Because Han also discovered so much more about Luke. Instead of seeing the marks of brutality etched on Luke's flesh as the torturer's legacy, Han now saw them as something else entirely. They stood for Luke's strength of mind, his resilience, his courage, and his trust in things that were right. To know Luke's body, with its inventory of inflicted pain and injustice, was to understand the whole truth and complexity of Luke.

And for Luke, Han knew this really was the destruction of the last barrier. Because Luke was letting himself be discovered. There was no hiding away, no attempt to dismiss the scars for anything other than what they were. It was the gift of openness that Han had craved, but had taught himself not to demand.

And as Han stroked a palm across Luke's body he was making a mockery of the cruelty of others. Offsetting it with the unwavering sense of purpose Luke had shown in accepting its necessity. And he kept his promise to Luke, not hesitating when his lips trailed a path up the warmth of Luke's thigh. He held Luke's words inside, guided by the changing pitch of Luke's breathing, and the harsher, throaty sounds that had replaced Luke's murmurs of encouragement. His touch made Luke's fingers clutch blindly at Han's hair, and he made Luke gasp out as he demanded familiarity with every last part of him.

It still wasn't enough, even though he had to grip Luke's hips hard, and even though he wrenched all those ragged sounds from Luke. And when Luke's body twisted more violently in his grip, and Luke's demands turned urgent, Han still felt the trace of a lingering tension and he pulled away. He kissed his way back up Luke's body, feeling Luke's skin blazing beneath his lips and Luke's heart hammering unsteadily against his ribs. He met Luke's lips with his own in a hard, rough kiss that spiked his desire up even further.

Luke's words were strained and uneven, breathed out against Han's mouth. "...want you..."

Han's reply was a low groan and a long breath in to center himself. He shook his head and touched his fingertips to Luke's ribs, his gesture an explanation that he couldn't trust himself to be careful enough. Then he closed his mouth on Luke's again, forestalling Luke's expected protest. And when he moved away, he gazed at Luke, absorbing all the passion and ache of hunger in Luke's eyes.

"Han..."

"Soon. I promise." He kept his eyes locked on Luke's as he moved his hands down Luke's body with renewed purpose. And he watched Luke's breath hitch in anticipation, and caught the hard tremor that ran through his body when his touch became one of startling intimacy. It was almost enough to push Luke beyond control, but Han didn't want that yet. He wanted to draw it out, to drown every last bit of Luke's anxiety in pure sensation, replacing past associations of pain and distress with something entirely different. As Luke breathed through Han's insistent caresses, Han pushed Luke further, edging his control to the very brink of shattering. And finally, Han saw how Luke's focus had narrowed to the point where all that existed was the physical and emotional connection they were sharing. He didn't want to look away – he wanted to soak up everything that showed on Luke's face, to watch the flush deepen on Luke's cheeks and to catch every sound that came from Luke's lips.

When Luke closed his eyes and gasped out Han's name, Han was already too close to losing his shaky hold on his own self-control. It was all he could do to seek out Luke's hand, finding it completely entangled in the sheet, and to let Luke pull him into another kiss. And when Luke moved a hand down between their bodies, he had no time to wonder how Luke's simple enfolding touch could send such a flash-fire of pleasure through every part of him.

Afterwards, they lay together quietly like they had in Ghandine. Luke was the first to speak, murmuring Han's name and lifting a hand to touch Han's shoulder. "Thank you."

Han shifted round so he could see Luke's face. "You're thankin' me for something I'd rather do more than anything else?"

"Not just for that. For listening. And for being here."

"Wouldn't wanna be anywhere else."

Luke rubbed his thumb along the edge of Han's jaw. "I know now."

"Know what?"

"That things are gonna be okay."

Han gazed at him, noticing how the light had fully returned to Luke's eyes for the first time in a long while. He kissed the side of Luke's head. "They're more than okay now. But I know what you mean. And I love you."


	29. Epilogue

They said goodbye to Bereljia Kovo out in the wide green flatlands beyond Prystyn. Scattered her ashes on the Corellian winds and hoped that she'd found some sort of peace.

They didn't speak, simply stood there in silence, gazing out across the expanse that stretched endlessly to the horizon. It was a place Han had once called home. Where he'd learned to fly, and also where he'd stepped inadvertently into a chain of events that would follow him for most of his life.

It was an ending of sorts, but it was also a beginning. Han turned to Luke, and they exchanged a small, private smile.

 

Slowly, step by step, they were putting the past to rights. The last few days on Jarodine had been busy, filled with the need to tie up remaining loose ends. As well as visits to the medcenter, there'd been endless holoconferences between Coruscant and the Jarodine base. There'd been explanations to give to all of those who'd been caught up in the events that continued to be known as the Druso Affair.

There'd also been an emotional meeting with Shil Du'Rhush, but difficult though it was, it had been surprisingly happy in other respects. For Han and Shil it was a reunion and the renewal of a friendship. Shil vowed to continue supporting Jak's research, and left with promises to visit Coruscant, and maybe to help with causes that Marika had devoted her life to fighting for.

And they'd spent some time with Linu Vilafii, trying to help her understand the motivations behind those who'd killed Marika. She knew all about injury and death, but it still didn't help and there was no adequate way to explain something that made no sense. She'd listened to them, and in the end had simply fallen silent, dealing with it in her own way.

They'd watched Haric Evlar and his colleagues return to Fiore, but neither Han nor Luke expected Evlar to remain there for long. Just like them, Evlar had got the taste for travel. Friela Evlar stayed on with Judd, and Han doubted she'd go back to Fiore at all. Judd had wrangled a temporary transfer for her from the Fioran Security Force to COBISS, but Han anticipated bumping into her indefinitely every time he ended up visiting the headquarters on Coruscant.

Ackbar had officially assigned the Rogues to duty in Taramine for the next couple of weeks. They were going to help the Jarodine military scour the planet for Kerul Talyn. They wouldn't find him, of course. Han knew he'd be long gone.

Then finally, Han, Luke and Jak had traveled to Corellia. Together, they'd gone to Prystyn and seen what remained of the laboratories, then they'd headed out across the flatlands to where Bereljia had once run her shipyard.

Little remained of the original buildings, but an atmosphere of familiarity lingered for Han, who'd spent so many hours in Bereljia's yards. The Drusos friendship with Bereljia had flourished in the confines of the laboratories, the risk of exposure too great to allow meetings anywhere else. It was strange to think that Han and Jak had existed almost side by side for years, sharing a common link, but meeting only by chance on another world, not knowing how much of their future was tied up in the past.

Most of their time on Corellia had been quiet. Han and Luke spent much of it talking, working through issues with an honesty that would have been difficult only days before. Han knew they couldn't forget Talandir, just as they'd never forget Cloud City or Endor. They'd been marked and changed by the experiences in permanent ways, but in opening up to each other, they were dealing with all the burdens of hurt, anxiety and misplaced guilt that had festered for too long.

And Han understood about Luke's nightmares too. Han would wake in the night, disturbed by some unease he could sense within Luke. Frowning, yet still deep in sleep, Luke would make a small sound – a breath emitted in murmured protest, and Han would know. He'd reach for Luke's hand, and carefully enmesh his own fingers with Luke's, hoping that somehow his presence would filter through into the subconscious world of isolation that Luke had returned to.

Or he'd kiss Luke across the forehead, or over his closed eyelids, until he felt the slow draining away of tension. Sometimes Luke would wake up, his gaze full of recognition for Han's support, and he'd smile and reach out, the rekindled desire in his eyes drawing Han closer, and chasing away any thoughts of further sleep.

Jak had talked too, disclosing feelings that had been buried deep, some for over twenty years. He planned to remain on Corellia for a while before returning to Jarodine. He was determined that the recent incidents wouldn't jeopardize his research. The swamplands had a peculiar draw for him, despite the inhospitable environment. He wanted to prove that the place was a source for good, and not just somewhere that had been misused and abused by the Empire, and by the likes of Terrin Velerrin and Elina Breya.

 

Now, they took one final look across the flatlands to the darkening horizon, the sun visible only as a deep red glow in the sky.

"I'm going back to Prystyn. I want to have another look at the laboratories," Jak said.

Han nodded. "We'll catch you later then. I think we're gonna head over to Hokrim Edge."

"How much longer will you stay on Corellia?"

Han looked at Luke. "A couple more days I guess. Although we're not in any hurry to get back to Coruscant."

"It's just that people are waiting to see us," Luke added.

Luke had been in contact with Leia several times in the last few days, but Han knew that wasn't enough for her. What she really wanted was Luke's presence, and a chance to reacquaint herself with a brother who'd grown too distant in the past year.

Jak glanced again towards the setting sun, a small frown on his face. "Before you go – there's something you should know."

"What?" Han asked, curious.

"It's about the research. What Bereljia told Velerrin – that the work had never been done – it wasn't true."

"What are you sayin'?"

"The first attempts were useless. My parents created a genetic coding that didn't work. But then they discovered something new about the virus. They managed to reconstruct it, as perfect and as deadly as the one that wiped out Alamyyr."

There was a short, confounded silence.

"And then they destroyed it," Luke said at last, the certainty in his voice underlined with amazement.

Jak gave a small smile. "Yes. They erased every data file that pointed to the final code. They left their earlier files in place to prove the research had failed. Bereljia would've known all that, but she came up with her own plan to keep us safe. I think Velerrin must've asked Elina to test everything that came from the files he'd downloaded during the raid. I guess that's why he believed Bereljia so easily, because he already had scientific proof that the code was meaningless, and would be even with the missing part."

"But they both kept that information from Talyn..."

Jak shrugged. "Maybe Elina had her own grudge against Talyn. She and Velerrin seemed to have a lot of things planned that Talyn hadn't known about. Your people can ask her. I don't think I want to know."

Han shook his head, now confused beyond hope of ever fully understanding what had gone on. "But the end result is the same. The research was destroyed, so there's still no virus."

Jak nodded slowly. "It's true that all the data was destroyed. But no-one can destroy what's in your head."

Han stared at him. "You _know_ the code?"

"I've always known it. It's there in my memory. A permanent part of me. I've tried to forget it, but it never goes away. So I had to do the next best thing and deny any knowledge of it at all."

The three of them stood there for a while longer, waiting for the sun's glow to vanish completely. There was nothing to discuss, and the pact they made never to disclose what Jak had revealed needed no words – it was just an assumption, founded on trust.

***

Hokrim Edge had special memories for Han. As a very young child, orphaned and living rough, he'd first approached it with trepidation. It'd marked the boundary of the only world he knew, and its sheer rocky sides and aggressive, sharp ridges seemed to suggest that nothing good could lie on the other side. But Han had looked on the Edge as a challenge. It was surprising how clear his recollection was of the place. He remembered sitting on the top, with slashed palms, bruised knees and a sprained ankle, looking down on the world below. The other side. The flatlands.

Luke and Han hauled themselves to the top in darkness and sat, slightly out of breath, on the summit.

"Maybe not the best time to come up here," Han acknowledged apologetically.

But Luke wasn't listening to him. The view had taken his attention, the vast sweep of it visible even at night. Fires from tiny settlements were dotted about before the electronic glow of the lights of Prystyn took over and drowned out their light.

But Han suspected it was the solitude that affected Luke the most. He'd had plenty of that on Tatooine, but Han knew he'd seen it as more of a penance than a luxury. Now, it was something he craved, having to spend so much of his time on built-up Coruscant.

Luke lay back on the flat rock, his eyes open, gazing up at the stars.

"You okay?" Han asked him.

"Sure."

"Maybe we shouldn't have done that climb so soon," Han said, frowning.

Luke sat up and threw him an amused grin. "There's nothing wrong with me, and if you keep fussing over me like that I'll start wondering if I've accidentally come away with Mon Mothma."

Han grinned back at him. Mon Mothma, calm and poised in her politician's guise, was notorious for her off-duty desire to watch over all the Alliance pilots and Luke seemed to attract that characteristic more than most.

"Well, you know me, never know when to shut up."

"I just wanted to see the stars," Luke explained, lying back down again. "But actually, now you've brought up the fragile state of my health, it's made me think of something else."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Han waited suspiciously, knowing that Luke's remark was likely to precede some specific challenge.

Luke turned his head to look at Han. "Like I made this climb easily, and never felt a thing. No soreness, no difficulty breathing..."

"And you're telling me this 'cause you think I'm checking up on you?"

"No. I'm telling you this 'cause it means everything's just about healed up."

"That's good then. Means I can stop worrying about you."

"It means it's about time you fulfilled your promise."

Han affected nonchalance, but it didn't quite work. "Which promise was that?"

And then Luke was right there beside him, taking Han by surprise. The hand that slid round inside his jacket momentarily took his breath away, and the night air, that had felt cool only moments before, seemed very much warmer.

"The one I'll have to remind you about," Luke murmured, brushing his lips against Han's.

Han found his voice. "Then we'd better go back to the guesthouse."

"Yes," Luke agreed, pushing Han down against the rock. "But I'd like to stay here for a bit longer first. Under the stars."

~end~


End file.
